


Rumors

by hearteyedheda



Category: The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: 1988 to be exact, Alternate Universe - High School, Clexa, Clexa HSAU, F/F, Fine Stud Lexa, clexa au, this takes place in the 80s dear god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteyedheda/pseuds/hearteyedheda
Summary: Trigeda High School, 1988 - senior year for Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods. The last three years have flown by without a hitch, but a sudden outbreak of nasty rumors brings the two girls together to find solace in Trigeda's mayhem.Inspired by Timex Social Club's 1986 hit "Rumors."





	1. August 23, 1988

The tiled hallways of Trigeda High School filled once more with sleepy students for the 1988-1989 school year. As usual, the majority of teenagers spent their entire summer staying up late and sleeping in until noon, completely ignoring their parents' suggestions of adjusting their sleep cycle before the first day of school. 

Clarke Griffin was one of those students. She couldn't be bothered to style her blonde hair today, instead opting to put it up in a bun and tie a bandana around her head as a headband to keep the stray locks in place. The dark circles beneath her eyes matched perfectly with the black leggings and oversized grey sweater she threw on just minutes before hopping in her car. Luckily, she hadn't been reassigned a new locker, at least that was one less tedious task for what would very likely be a long, long day. 

7...26...14. Click!

The maroon door swung open with a push of the handle, revealing the decorations that went untouched for 4 months; that is, if a mirror and a small poster of a golden retriever puppy were considered "decorations." 

"Damn it," she mumbled, catching a glimpse of her own face in the mirror. The dark skin beneath her blue eyes didn't jump out so much in her dimly-lit bathroom at home... dimly-lit indeed, as she also missed a streak of blue paint down the side of her left cheek.

"I know you've been wanting to make your eyes pop a bit more, but I don't think this is the look for you."

Clarke peered behind herself in the mirror to find her best friend, Octavia, standing right behind her. "O!" She whirled around and pulled the girl into a tight hug, purposefully rubbing her cheek on the brunette's out of spite. 

"Hey, hey, hey! Blue isn't my color!" Octavia laughed and pushed Clarke off of her, picking the dried flakes of paint off her face while Clarke scratched the remainder off her own cheek.

"Damn, you look like Farrah Fawcett with that hair," Clarke laughed and dodged a playful nudge from the brunette. "Not a bad thing, by the way! Lincoln probably thinks it's choice style."

Octavia rolled her eyes and huffed. "Not even."

A glint of mischief flashed through blue eyes before the blonde lowered her voice to imitate Lincoln's. "What a bodacious babe, I bet she's wicked in the sheets!"

Octavia squealed and used her Lisa Frank trapper keeper to slap Clarke's arm. "Stop! You sound like such a val when you do that," she giggled. "Have you seen Raven?"

Clarke shrugged just as the bell rang, turned around one more time to check herself in the mirror, and slammed her locker shut. "This must be a new record, she usually waits until the second day to ditch."

"Oh eat my shorts, I'm here now!" Raven wheeled down the hallway to her two friends before heading to class. "I couldn't get my fucking hair done in time," she muttered and pulled her half-crimped black hair back into a ponytail with a bright blue scrunchie. "The one time I even care about my looks."

"You look nice anyway, though. Almost like you just rolled out of bed after a one night stand," Octavia teased. She grabbed Raven's elbow and towed her away to their shared first class. 

"Good luck, Griff!" Raven called out over her shoulder. 

Clarke readjusted her backpack on her shoulder and clutched a bare binder to her chest, already shaking with nerves on her stroll down the hallway to calculus. She switched between imagining embarrassing herself in class and glaring daggers at what felt like twenty different students as they bumped into her, heading the opposite direction.

"Stand along the walls, please" stretched in large writing across the chalkboard at the front of the classroom. 

"Clarke!"

The blonde pivoted and scanned the back of the room for the familiar voice. "Michael, hey!" She crossed the gap between them in five large steps, concluding them with a hug around her slim friend. "How was your summer?"

"Ugh, horrible. My mom sent me off to some religious summer camp in the middle of assfuck nowhere, the mosquitoes ate me up."

Clarke quirked an eyebrow. "Assfuck nowhere?"

The taller boy chuckled and nodded, but was interrupted by the teacher when he opened his mouth to respond.

"Good morning, everybody, I'm Mr....Martinez..." the short man scribbled his name on the chalkboard, seemingly unaware of the awful squeaking noise the chalk made. "I've already calculated the seating arrangements."

The class groaned collectively with a simultaneous eye roll. 

"I know, I'm sorry, I promise that's the only one...for today." Mr. Martinez beamed a cheesy grin, his eyes squinted behind thick glasses. He snatched a piece of paper from his desk and studied it for a moment before pointing at the first row of seats. "Up here, we have Lillian Kasper, Donna Ramsay, Alton South, and Tina Daniels."

Clarke and Michael waited patiently as Mr. Martinez announced the next row. The last thing they wanted was to be in the first or second row where they'd surely be caught passing notes or whispering to each other, as they often did. 

"Third row: Clarke Griffin, Michael Richardson, Lincoln Terran, and Barbara Cahill." 

Clarke leaned over to whisper to Michael as soon as they sat down. "Octavia has the biggest crush on the guy next to you, don't look now."

Michael raised both eyebrows, clearly amused by this new piece of information. He waited the mandatory ten seconds before glancing over to inspect the student to his right, then leaned back over toward Clarke to whisper, "I don't blame her, he's ripped."

Clarke chuckled and shook her head, eyes snapping up to the front of the room when the chalk resumed its squeaking.

\---

Clarke spent the entirety of calculus forcing herself to stay awake, and was grateful for the light pinches Michael squeezed on her wrist when her head started to bob.

Luckily, her next class was art. Even though it was the first day and Mrs. Cleary spent the whole period asking students how their summers went, Clarke already felt at home perched on her stool at her table of four. The worn table was covered in stains from who-knows-what, with a few patches of dried clay clinging on random areas. Some past students clearly didn't appreciate the class and teacher, judging by the etchings in the wood, but Clarke warmed up to both in a matter of minutes. 

She almost felt disappointed when the bell for break rang and forced her from the stool, but her grumbling stomach certainly seemed relieved. 

"Have a good day, I'll see you tomorrow, bye bye," Mrs. Cleary smiled at the students filing out the door, positively radiant in her bright yellow dress and smiling far too joyously for many of the students to believe this early in the morning. 

Clarke made a beeline for her locker to stuff the heavy, currently irrelevant books into it to alleviate her already aching shoulders. "I am not built for heavy lifting," she grumbled to herself. She dug through her backpack for her snack, tearing open the little package of DinaSour eggs and nearly inhaling them. A guilty chipmunk-cheeked smile graced her face when Michael, Raven, and Octavia walked up to her, all three visibly amused with the sight before them.

"I bet that's the best tasting thing you've had shoved in your mouth all summer," Raven smirked.

Clarke rolled her eyes, then nearly choked on the mouthful of candies when Michael interjected with a "me too."

Raven cackled and whipped her head around to check for eavesdroppers. "Dude you're not out yet, shouldn't you be more careful?" 

Michael shrugged. "People already whisper behind my back about it, nothing bad has happened."

Yet, Clarke thought. Trigeda was a small town, a disgustingly homophobic town. The mere thought of growing up here and not knowing any better made her stomach flip. Why her parents decided to move here from San Francisco, she had no idea. 

She'd been raised to treat everyone equally and with respect, regardless of any differences she may have had with them. Trigeda was worlds apart from her family and San Francisco, however. Michael had blubbered incoherently last summer when he came out to her, later revealing he was convinced she would hate him, but he couldn't hold it in any longer. Raven and Octavia created a rift between themselves and him, but eventually gravitated back during the school year when he and Clarke invited them to sit at their lunch table. Of course, many people at school speculated and whispered among themselves, but only the three girls knew of the confirmation. 

At least, that's what they thought. 

\---

Clarke scolded herself for taking A.P. English. Just looking at the syllabus gave her a tension headache, let alone having to listen to Ms. Todd prattle on and on about her strict grading system. The only thing to relieve the ache budding behind her eyes was the fact that 1984 was on the list of required reading. Better yet, she wasn't in the senior class of 1984, the group of poor souls who had to write an additional report comparing the year's worldly situation to that of the book. 

If she thought she hated herself for choosing A.P. English, she proved herself horribly wrong just minutes after walking into Econ. Mrs. Vincent was a short, yet ferocious woman. Her face curled into a permanent snarl, her permed hair added another couple inches to her diminutive stature, and her lungs rattled with a smoker's cough any time she tried to speak too loudly. Which was always.

"My god, what is that stench?!" 

Clarke awoke from her mental degradation at Mrs. Vincent's sudden sharp tone. 

"Is somebody carrying the devil's grass?!"

The students turned their heads to look at each other, bewilderment plastered across their faces. A brave boy in the back of the room stammered. "W-what do you mean, Mrs. Vincent?"

She fixated on the student, eyes narrowing. "I mean cannabis! Dope! Marijuana!"

The bell rang, and several students immediately stood and bolted out the door. Damn, that many people? Clarke smiled and chuckled silently, shaking her head. She made it a point not to leave the room hastily, trying desperately to get on Mrs. Vincent's good side, if there even was one.

Though her pace wasn't frantic, her stop just outside the door felt like a slam on the brakes. "Michael, how did you know I had this class before lunch?"

"I didn't!" Michael's hazel eyes popped open to match Clarke's. "I was waiting for my friend," he peered through the door and grinned when his brunette friend stepped out the door and nodded at him. "Clarke, this is Lexa. Lexa, Clarke."

The blonde's stomach somersaulted. The brunette - Lexa, Michael had said - absolutely stunned her. Those eyes were the greenest she'd ever seen, and they were perfectly framed by long eyelashes. Clarke unknowingly gaped, completely dumbfounded. She tried to convince herself that perfection didn't exist, but that was a difficult feat with the evidence just in front of her. 

"Clarke?" Lexa blinked, her hand outstretched.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry, nice to meet you," Clarke forced a nervous smile and shook the other girl's hand, begging her own mind desperately not to over-analyze how smooth and silky Lexa's hand was. 

The muscles of her face jerked into a scowl when Michael's signature eyebrow-raise taunted her, though his expression relaxed into a casual one when Lexa turned her attention to him. "You don't look so good Clarke, maybe you should go to the nurse."

Clarke battled the urge to roll her eyes and shove her best friend. "Really? I feel fine."

"Huh, must be my eyes. Lexa, does Clarke look good?"

Again, Clarke fought her own eyes, only allowing them to narrow slightly in an attempt to scold her friend discreetly. 

Lexa swallowed visibly, but clearly concealed her emotions more effectively than the blonde. "You do look good, Clarke."

Clarke's eyes couldn't escape Lexa's intense stare. 

"Alrighty then, we'll see you later Clarke," Michael sing-songed and pulled Lexa along with him to head out to the parking lot. 

\---

"Damn Griff, you look like you just got hit by a truck," Raven uttered as she finally sat with her friends at their lunch table, tray in hand.

"Shut up, Raven," Clarke snapped, poking at her spaghetti with a plastic fork. "I just need to eat."

"Really? Because you've been playing with the same five noodles for five minutes," Octavia stated matter-of-factly as she shoved more mashed potatoes into her mouth. "It's just not like you," she added around her mouthful of potatoes.

Clarke sighed and dropped her head into her hands. She mumbled.

"What?" Octavia asked and swallowed.

Clarke murmured again, not even attempting to speak more clearly.

Raven slammed her hand on the table just in front of the blonde. "CLARKE."

Everyone at the nearby tables turned their heads to stare at the outburst and were met with Raven's sharp glare. "May I help you?"

The students returned to their conversations, careful not to crane their heads around to be caught by Raven.

"Did you embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy?"

Clarke groaned into her hands and raked at her scalp with her nails. A dizziness set in, similar to what threatened to overtake her senses in Lexa's midst.

"Who?" Octavia leaned in closer, just in case Clarke couldn't speak up again. 

The dizziness in Clarke's head progressed, unlike her earlier reaction to Michael's brunette friend. Just as well, her stomach flipped and flopped, albeit rather uncomfortably this time around. "I honestly don't know if I'm anxious or sick," Clarke grumbled into her hands. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted even vocalizing her thoughts as a gag loomed in the muscles of her throat. "Definitely sick," Clarke remarked before shooting up and making a break for the nearest restroom, which was, luckily, just outside the cafeteria doors. 

Her hands, slick with sweat, struggled for what felt like minutes to pull the handle of the heavy wooden door, and she couldn't stop to apologize to - let alone recognize - the girl she bounced off of in her race to an open stall. 

Clarke was too focused on the burning in her throat and her oxygen-starved lungs to notice the gentle hands that steadied her and rubbed her back through the onslaught of nausea. Though she wanted to turn her head to at least see her aide, her spinning head and dry-heaving stomach convinced her otherwise. 

The hands left her body, and if her throat hadn't been so raw and seared, she would have whined at the loss of comforting contact. However, only seconds later, the person returned with two cool, wet towels. The girl rested one on the back of Clarke's neck, and used the other to dab at her clammy face. 

"Thank you," Clarke wheezed, her head resting on her arm against the toilet seat, eyes sealed shut.

"Are the towels helping, Clarke?"

Her churning stomach froze in her gut at the soft voice in her ear. As if she wasn't already embarrassed enough, the fact that this was Lexa taking care of her while she was knelt before a school toilet made her want to curl up and hide under a rock. Yet she swallowed roughly, provoking the burn in her throat. "Yes, thank you."

"You're welcome," Lexa whispered, careful not to upset the blonde's fragile equilibrium.

They sat on the tile floor for several minutes, Lexa all the while rubbing soothing circles into Clarke's back and shoulders. 

Clarke wished she wasn't so sick, maybe she could have enjoyed the back rub even more than in this moment. She became uneasy at the realization that Lexa's hands were the only barrier between herself and another wave of biliousness.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get Michael so he can take you home, okay?"

Clarke nodded weakly against her arm, fighting the dizziness that followed the movement. She heard footsteps, then the restroom door opened and closed.

Thank god I wore my hair up today, Clarke thought. The sweat-drenched bandana tied around her head only slightly disgusted her, as it paled in comparison to the heavy, wet material of her shirt around her shoulders and collar. 

Slowly, she sat back against the side of the stall, removed the towel from the back of her neck, and wiped at her face and mouth. The dizziness had finally subsided, but her stomach felt hot and restless in its cocoon of overworked muscles. Clarke focused on breathing steadily, and before she realized it, succumbed to a light sleep, dreaming faintly of brunette hair and green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters in this story will be utilizing 80's slang, naturally. I'll put a note at the end of every chapter with translations lol.
> 
> Val = short for 'valley girl'. synonymous with dumb, stupid.  
> Eat my shorts = "fuck off"  
> Choice = great, awesome


	2. August 24, 1988

Clarke cracked her eyes open slowly, dreading the thought of waking up from her deep slumber. The little red alarm clock on her bedside table showed the time was 12:31, and the only reason Clarke deducted in her foggy mind that it was daytime was the light streaming in from where her dark green curtains couldn't quite meet. 

Of course, she had a reason to sleep in so late on a school day. After spending most of the night kneeling by her toilet and praying to God she'd die soon, one would assume she earned her right to rest. 

Much to her surprise, Clarke's stomach didn't clench or gurgle when she sat up and stretched, nor did she feel the need to make another mad dash to the bathroom. However, her full bladder did coerce her into entering the damned room once again, and she thanked her lucky stars that it was now her lower cheeks that rested on the porcelain. 

Clarke couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. Her blonde hair coiled up into the messiest bun ever made atop her head, with strands sticking out every which way and hanging by the sides of her face. As if her hair wasn't bad enough, the image of the dark bags under her eyes and the deep, burning cracks in her lips were enough to haunt her throughout the day. Washing her face didn't help much, though she couldn't deny how soothing it was to finally smooth on some lip balm without having to wipe it off, among grosser things, an hour later. 

Though she still cringed at the thought of last night, she could just her hear mother in her head. You need to eat, or else you'll get sick all over again!

She dawdled down the hall, hesitant to even look at anything that wasn't toast with butter. Or worse...spaghetti. She shuddered. Clarke was completely aware the spaghetti hadn't made her sick, but considering it was the last thing she tasted before the contents of her own stomach, well...

"Well good morning, sleepyhead!" Michael cooed loudly from the old orange armchair in the living room, hands behind his head and legs stretched out on the matching ottoman. "About time, I was starting to worry you were dead."

"Gee, thanks," Clarke mumbled once the initial shock died out. "What are you doing here? You're gonna catch what I had, airhead. Go back to school."

"Nah, I already had that stomach flu a week before school started, I'm basically immune," he hopped up from the chair and headed to the kitchen.

"Oh bite me," Clarke growled as she followed the taller boy. "Why are you here anyway? Don't get me wrong, I enjoy your company, but for all you knew I could've been ralphing all day today too."

"Yeah, I guess. You're my best friend though, I wanted to see if you were okay," he grinned at the blonde, pausing momentarily in his preparation of Clarke's breakfast. 

She smiled, groggy. "Thanks, dude. You're my best friend too."

"And I may or may not have wanted to ask if you like Lexa," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Damn it, Michael!" Clarke moved to lunge at him, but stopped dead in her tracks when he raised the still greasy butter knife in defense. She sighed. "Michael. I'm straight, remember?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, eyeing her sideways as he continued to butter the toast. "I suppose a lot of straight girls go weak in the knees when they meet a pretty girl."

Clarke lifted her chin defiantly. "Actually, they do. It's called jealousy. She's just pretty, and I'm kind of jealous," she huffed, eyes closed and chin still stuck up. 

"Chyeahh, jealous of all the girls she's boinked."

"How many?" Clarke leaned closer with a frown.

"Ha! See! I was lying, she's a virgin. At first I thought you were just buggin, but then I noticed the drool on your chin."

"I was not drooling," Clarke pouted and crossed her arms. "And I was not buggin, I was just sick."

"Aw man, that's too bad, because she told me that she thinks you're really cute," Michael shrugged, handing Clarke the pieces of toast on a napkin. "But oh well, I guess when I go back to school I'll just tell her you're not into-"

"Wait! Wait," Clarke interjected too loudly for her own comfort. "Okay, yes, she's cute. Fine. But I'm not gay."

"Okie dokie, Clarkey," Michael skipped over to the armchair and plopped down again. Clarke sat on the floor beside him. 

Clarke chewed her toast slowly and swallowed hesitantly, waiting a few minutes between bites just to be safe. Michael focused back on the TV show he'd been watching before Clarke woke up.

After several minutes, though, the suspense was killing Clarke. "Is she gay?"

"Gay as a goose."

"As a-"

"It's from Cheers, Clarke. You really need to watch more television."

She sputtered. "I have better things to do! Whatever...why haven't I seen her around before?"

Michael shrugged. "She keeps to herself, only really hangs out with Lincoln, or with me every once in a while. We talk on the phone a lot, though. And sports probably keep her too busy after school to hang around town or anything."

"What does she play?"

"Basketball and softball. And you know what they say about softball players," he winked.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Please, it's just a coincidence that she plays softball."

"Coincidence or not, she doesn't hear the end of it from me," Michael laughed. Before he could react, Clarke stood up and punched him in the arm with just enough force to make it hurt. "Hey, what was that for!"

"Why haven't you introduced us before!"

"Because you're straight! Right?!" Michael countered, a smirk playing at his lips, though just hiding to avoid another jab. 

Realizing she was trapped, Clarke grumbled and picked up her napkin to throw it away. "Whatever."

She sighed when she returned and cuddled up to Michael on the chair. "She thought I was cute. She was there in the restroom with me when I first got sick, she probably thinks I'm disgusting now."

Michael frowned and hugged his best friend closer. "I don't know, she looked and sounded really concerned when she told me I should take you home. She called me last night too, to ask if you were okay. I told her I'd call her today. Or...maybe you can call her?" 

"Do you want a fresh one?" Clarke threatened.

"I'm serious! It would probably make her day, and she would probably be happy to actually hear how much better you're feeling," Michael defended. 

"I don't know... maybe it would be easier to just freshen up and go to school for the rest of the day," she mused.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea..." Michael teased, tugging at a stray hair from Clarke's bun. "It would take a lot more than just 'freshening up' to fix all this."

"Wow!" Clarke yelled and turned to slap his arm. "Rude!"

He snickered. "If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'. Hey, can I come over for dinner tonight?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Clarke grinned.

"Nah, your mom loves me. Oh, and make sure you're looking your best."

"Just for you? Why?" Clarke inquired, confused. 

"Stop grilling me, take a chill pill. Now get your sick butt off me, I have to get back to school."

"Michael, do not," she warned as she rose from the chair. "I swear to god, if you-"

"Shhh, Clarkey. It'll be icy. It'll be peachy-keen, jelly bean. It'll be-"

"Okay yeah just get out now," Clarke laughed and just about pushed her best friend out the front door.

\---

Thanks to Michael, Clarke grew increasingly uneasy as dinnertime neared. She mapped out a timeline of events in her head to calm herself down, but it only made her over-analyze anything and everything that could happen. 

3:15, start getting ready. What if the water's been turned off by the city? What if the hairdryer breaks? What if I can't find my favorite eyeliner? What if I can't find my cutest shirt?

4:00, mom comes home. What if she thinks I'm going on a date? What if she thinks Lexa is here as a date?

4:00-5:00, continue getting ready, make sure everything is perfect. What if I end up getting sick again? What if I somehow mess up my makeup or outfit? What if they get here before I'm ready?

5:30, dinnertime. What if mom makes something really messy and I make a fool of myself? What if Lexa's allergic to something? Again, what if I end up getting sick again? Oh god, she's already seen one instance of my barfing, god forbid she sees another...

Despite her pessimism, 4 o'clock rolled around and Clarke already took a shower and finished drying her hair, not a problem in sight. 

"I'm home Clarke, where are- oh, well don't you look nice," Abby, Clarke's mother, rounded the corner in the hallway and caught Clarke making faces in the mirror to find the best angle to apply her eyeliner. "I take it you're feeling better."

"I am," Clarke exhaled, cautious not to smudge the makeup. "Michael's coming over for dinner, he's bringing a friend."

"A friend for him, or a friend for you?" Abby smirked at her daughter. "You're focusing on that eyeliner more than you focus on your own art, who are you dressing up for?"

"Nobody, mom," Clarke whined, desperate to at least finish the last little bit of eyeliner as slowly as possible as an excuse to avoid eye contact. "I just want to make a good impression, we barely know each other."

"Hmm," Abby droned, hesitating before turning to walk to the kitchen. "Alright, well I hope your new friend likes chicken."

\---

Michael relaxed into Lexa's plush bed and rested his eyes, 'only for a moment,' he'd promised. 'Accidentally' taking a nap was his initial plan, but Lexa's obsessive pacing and mumbling proved to be too much stimulation for his ears. "What are you so nervous for?" Michael huffed and pushed himself up to his elbows, head lolling back. 

"I don't know what to wear. Should I go business casual? Or just...casual?" Lexa chewed her lip and surveyed the outfits she'd thrown beside Michael. 

"I've gone over there in literally nothing but a Speedo, maybe your usual blazer and slacks would be a bit too much."

"But you basically live there," she rolled her eyes. "I've met Clarke once and I've helped her once. I don't even know her mother's name!"

"It's Abby," Michael fell back again, resting his hands atop his stomach. "Just wear a flannel and some slacks, I don't know? With Reeboks?"

"Slacks with Reeboks, Michael?" Lexa admonished. "I thought you were better than that."

He laughed and chucked a pair of socks at her. "I don't know! Clarke thinks you're cute anyway, you could be wearing a Raggedy Ann outfit and she'd probably still go for it."

"She thinks I'm cute?" Lexa halted in her tracks, eyes wide and fixed on the floor instead of her friend. 

"If she knows I told you that, I'll be in deep shit. Don't say anything."

"I won't, I won't..." she trailed off. A dark blush filled her cheeks and her heart fluttered. Saying she never felt this way before would've been a blatant lie, but it had been so long since she felt it, and much longer since she could actually let it show without worrying of some sort of punishment. "I...is she like me?"

Michael shrugged and threw his legs to the side of the bed to stand up. "But like I said, it doesn't really matter what you wear, Clarke will think you look great. And Abby's not a hardass, so just wear a flannel and some Levi's, you'll be fine."

The shorter girl smiled at him in appreciation, grabbed the clothes from her dresser, and bounded off to her en-suite bathroom to change. 

"Don't forget to peg your jeans!"

A faint "got it" slipped under the bathroom door, and Michael set to work folding the clothes scattered over the bed and replacing them in the drawers. 

Lexa emerged from the bathroom, followed by the scent of a dainty strawberry perfume. Her wavy hair rested over her right shoulder, strategically placed on its unusual side so as not to cover the breast pocket of her dark green flannel on the other side. The dark blue jeans hugged her waist and thighs perfectly, and gently sloped down over her knees and to their rolled-up bottoms just above her ankles.

"Vans instead, huh? Choice," Michael praised, finger on chin and eyebrows raised. "You're missing something, though. Maybe butch it up a little?"

The brunette's eyes scanned her room hurriedly. "Yes!" She loped to the rocking chair on the other side of the room and grabbed her varsity jacket from the backrest. "And it matches my shirt." She pushed her arms through the sleeves and pulled her hair back into place. The white-outlined dark green V on the left breast of the black jacket matched flawlessly with the flannel, and the white sleeves pulled the outfit together with her white Vans. 

Michael gave two thumbs up and checked his watch. "Shit, we gotta motor, it's almost 5:30!"

\---

"Clarke, this is the last time I'm asking you to stop pacing. You're making me nervous," Abby scolded her daughter, eyes never leaving the chicken breasts sizzling on the skillet. "What's gotten into you? Are you sure this person isn't more than a friend?"

"Mom, I'm sure. Her name's Lexa. She's a girl," Clarke groaned and plopped into one of the chairs at the dinner table, straddling it backwards to rest her elbows on the back and face her mother. 

"Your point? Girls can like girls," Abby shrugged, tongs in hand.

Clarke sighed and rested her forehead on her arms. Of course she knew girls could like girls - she grew up in San Francisco, after all - but Trigeda was far less friendly than her old city. So much less friendly that, in a matter of only a couple years, Clarke went from actively questioning her sexuality to just shoving it under the rug every time her mind even glanced that direction. At first it was easy, but she felt the oppression catching her tail quickly, especially since meeting Lexa. 

"Are you feeling okay, sweetie? Should I make you some soup instead?" Abby's tone dropped from curious prodding to serious concern in seconds.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just a little tired still, I guess," she raised her head tentatively, gaze to the tiled kitchen floor. 

"Okay...but take it easy tonight, don't stuff yourself. I know how you can be," Abby teased, a sly smile barely stretching her lips. 

The ding of the doorbell startled Clarke, then sent her spiraling into panic. She prayed her mother couldn't see her shaking legs as she rose from the chair and walked across the living room to the front door. Okay, Clarke. You can do this. Deep breaths.

She held her breath in anticipation and opened the door. 

"I told her I usually just walk in, but miss polite here made me ring the bell," Michael smiled and pulled Clarke into a bear hug. 

"Can't breathe, not completely healthy yet," Clarke wheezed, regretting the stale air she forced to stay in her lungs moments before.

When Michael set her down, the sweet scent of strawberries delighted her nose, and she wished she hadn't wasted those first few seconds of air when she opened the door. Eleven seconds without this scent, eleven seconds she'd missed. 

"Hey, nice to see you again," Clarke smiled bashfully, holding her hand out for Lexa to shake. Silky, as she remembered.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, I was kind of worried."  
Lexa's default stoic expression softened, even if only a little bit. It was most apparent in her eyes, however. Somehow, those steely green eyes warmed to a welcoming jade, and Clarke felt as though they were pulling her in.

"Kind of? Seriously?" Michael's eyebrows flew sky-high once more, a disbelieving, open-mouthed smirk quirking his mouth.

"Get bent," Lexa whispered vehemently, her eyes turning stone cold once more, with only an ounce of lightheartedness.

In that moment, the three teenagers created a vision triangle: Clarke's eyes on Lexa, Lexa's eyes on Michael, Michael's eyes on Clarke. 

Back to his usual demeanor, Michael casually strutted past Clarke to the kitchen to greet his 'second mother.' "How's it going mama Griffin?"

Lexa's eyes widened and her heart dropped as she stepped inside and Clarke closed the door behind her. She fell so far into her barrelling thoughts that she didn't quite catch Abby's reply, nor did she notice Clarke saying her name until a gentle hand rested on the backside of her elbow.

"Lexa? Are you okay?" Clarke asked, leaning into Lexa's line of sight in a victorious attempt to finally capture her attention. 

"I'm fine, yes," Lexa nodded and recomposed her expression. Clarke gave her a weak smile before leading her to the kitchen to meet her mother.

"Hi Dr. Griffin," the brunette greeted the cooking woman cautiously. "It's nice to see you again."

Abby set the spatula she was holding down on the counter and hugged the younger girl. "It's nice to see you too, and under much better circumstances." Abby pulled back, holding Lexa's upper arms, and looked her in the eye. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay," Lexa duplicated the feeble smile Clarke offered earlier. "I didn't know Clarke was your daughter."

"Of course!" Abby beamed, let go of Lexa's arms, and threw one of her own around the blonde's shoulders. 

"You didn't know I was her son, either, Lex. Come on, space cadet, get with the times," Michael snickered and peeked under the lid of a pot on the back burner. "Oooh, mama Griffin made her world famous mashed potatoes?"

"Just for you, lord knows Clarke's the only one who fights you for the whole pot," Abby chuckled and turned off the stove. "Will you guys help me set the table?"

Michael reached up into a cabinet for the plates, Clarke set the utensils and napkins, and Lexa helped Abby bring all the food to the table. 

Clarke couldn't help but wonder why her mom knew Lexa. Of course, Abby was pretty much the only doctor for the small town of Trigeda, thus knowing the vast majority of the residents, but something about the way they interacted had her thinking perhaps they'd spent more time together than just the occasional appointment. For what, she wasn't sure. Lexa couldn't have been unhealthy... after all, she played both softball and basketball. Perhaps she broke a bone playing, Clarke pondered as she pulled four napkins from the holder by the sink. It wasn't unlikely, but that didn't feel quite right, either. Clearly she hadn't been a consistent patient when Clarke lent a helping hand in her mother's office shortly after one of the nurses quit. She decided to keep her ears open and hope the subject arose during dinner.

The food occupied most of the space on the round, modest dining room table. A plate of fried chicken, a pot of mashed potatoes, a basket of rolls, and a bowl of steamed carrots adorned the table, and before anyone had the chance to admire the spread, somebody was digging into any one of the dishes. Clarke and Michael elbowed each other for a chance to fill their plate with potatoes, but while the two squabbled, Lexa snatched the spoon and served herself, much to Abby's amusement.

"It's not often someone's able to get at those potatoes before these two can," Abby laughed across from Lexa. "Maybe you can keep them in check better than I ever could."

"She keeps me in my place," Michael uttered around a mouthful of carrots. He slapped Clarke's hand away from the potatoes' serving spoon and took hold. "I don't know if she could do that with Clarke, though." He shrugged sarcastically and elbowed the blonde once more. 

"Bite me. And give me that spoon, you're gonna take all the potatoes," Clarke reached for the handle and growled when Michael held it just out of her reach.

"Such manners, the two of you," Abby scolded lightly and plucked a chicken breast from the pile to set on Lexa's plate. "There you go, sweetie. If they're not fighting over potatoes, they're fighting over chicken."

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Airhead = someone who's dumb  
> Ralph = vomit  
> Chyeah = "Uh, yeah!"  
> Boink = to fuck, i.e. to have sex  
> Buggin = freaking out, going a little crazy  
> Fresh one = a hit or punch  
> Grilling = asking several questions, rapid fire  
> Icy = okay, fine, calm  
> Peachy-keen = outstanding, really great  
> Peg = to peg one's pants: tightly rolling the bottoms of the pants into cuffs  
> Choice = great, awesome  
> Motor = to leave in a hurry  
> Get bent = "fuck off"


	3. August 24-25, 1988

Just over dinner, Lexa mastered the fine art of containing the chaos between Michael and Clarke, and if Abby had anything to say about it, she was a natural. She deflected dinner roll throws gone awry and pierced Michael's brown eyes with the glare every child knows only from his mother when he causes trouble. Though, she couldn't quite build up the grit to cast such a stare at those sky-blue eyes, opting only for an occasional glance followed by a sheepish smile and a flick of her eyes to gaze elsewhere once she'd been caught...which was every time, given the fact that Clarke ripped her eyes away from Lexa only when a stab of her fork at the plate didn't produce any food. 

Neither of the girls spoke, their little eye-game of catch-me-if-you-can carried on undisturbed throughout the meal. Abby asked Michael how his summer went, and he graciously took the opportunity to rant on and on about the God-fearing summer camp he endured, complete with his statement of its whereabouts in "assfuck nowhere." Abby no longer flinched at the language. In fact, at this point, it was amusing. Sometimes after Michael left, she would turn to Clarke and ask, 'Is that what you kids are saying these days?' Clarke would laugh and explain that Michael was a linguist all his own, though she did have to fess up to using "dick year."

Abby bid the teenagers goodnight shortly after dinner to allow them freedom in the living room. A couple hours later, when 8:30 rolled around and Abby was most definitely asleep in preparation for her 3:30 a.m. shift the next morning, Michael scooted down to the floor from the orange armchair and urged the two girls to join him. Lexa warily lowered herself, while Clarke's suspicion spiked immediately. 

"This better not be another stupid game of spin the bottle with my old dolls," Clarke muttered, legs crossed, elbows propped on her knees. 

"Ugh no, I'm never kissing plastic again," Michael faked a gag. "No, I wanted to play Truth Or Dare."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "Michael-"

"Take a chill pill! You can start with me, if that makes you feel any better."

"Okay...truth or dare?" Clarke huffed, kicking herself internally for falling into his plot. 

"Dare."

"I dare you to kiss a plastic doll," Clarke smirked. She didn't expect the chuckle from Lexa beside her, but instantaneously decided she wanted to be the reason behind the delightful noise more than just the once. 

Michael glowered and heaved himself up off the floor to grab a doll from Clarke's room, not forgetting to mutter "scumbag" before he disappeared down the hall for a few seconds. He returned with a plastic baby doll. Even through the crayon marks and marker stains, it was the cleanest he could find. He settled down on the floor and placed his lips on the doll's nose, his eyes boring into Clarke's the whole time. 

"Alright, good job," Clarke snickered and snatched the doll away. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Michael shook his head slowly with an icy stare. "I hate you."

"Love you too, buddy. Now you ask."

Michael smirked and tapped a finger to his chin. "Hmm...let's see...Lexa. Truth or dare?"

Lexa blurted out "truth" as Michael barely finished the sentence, too eager to pass her turn in what would hopefully leave her unscathed and free of embarrassment.

"Name one girl you think is cute."

Her eyes widened. She wracked her brain for an answer, which was very clearly Clarke. No, she couldn't allow herself to admit that so soon after meeting the girl, even if it was reciprocated. She stammered, her mouth desperately trying to spill the truth while her brain commanded her to be quiet. "C-c...Carrie Fisher," she blushed, yet was relieved when Clarke chimed in with "totally." 

"Who's that?"

"Michael, what the fuck?" Clarke bursted. "Have you really not seen Star Wars?"

"Is she the one that fat dude keeps as a slave?"

"Oh my god," Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "She's Princess Leia, that fat dude is Jabba the Hutt, and yes, he makes her his slave for a while."

"Ohh wait, is she the one on that poster in-"

"Let's take a red, shall we?!" Lexa interrupted and reddened under Clarke's curious gaze. 

"What? I think Clarke will find out eventually that-"

"NOT. Today." Lexa held a hand up while Michael suppressed a series of giggles. "Please, let's continue with Truth Or Dare, and no more talk of Carrie Fisher, for the love of god."

\---

The moment her eyes opened, Clarke felt a surge of regret overtake her exhausted body. She kicked herself internally for asking Michael and Lexa to stay as late as they could, because "late" differed between Michael and Clarke. For her, that was about 10 p.m. For him, it was about 1 a.m.

She grumbled and considered just staying home, given it was Thursday, as well as the last school day of the week. If not for Octavia and Raven, she would have actually followed through. Even if she was only going so they could fill her in on whatever may have happened while she was gone, or maybe even to see Lexa again. 

It dawned on her that she had one class with Lexa, and instantly bolted to her closet to assemble the perfect outfit. A light blue knit sweater, white A-line skirt, and black Doc Martens with light blue slouch socks started Clarke's day the right way. Surely the outfit would capture Lexa's attention, but Clarke almost completely lost her drive when she stood before the bathroom mirror to put on makeup. The possibilities were endless, finding where to start quickly became overwhelming. Simple eyeliner appeared to be the best choice, trying anything else and failing would inevitably lead to eyeliner streaks down her cheeks and complete discouragement. 

Sure, figuring out how to do her makeup was somewhat difficult, but the prospect of her hair brought a new challenge. She glared at the bandana hanging on a hook beside the towel rack. It still needed a good wash from all the sweat it absorbed. Even thinking about having her hair up the way it was that day made Clarke uneasy, so that option was out. She put her hair up in a simple ponytail and frowned at the mirror. She looked like a child. 

With only ten minutes before school started, she brushed her hair out, split her forelocks, twisted them back, and pinned them in the back. She brushed her teeth, gave herself a once-over, and began her short walk to Trigeda High School. 

\---

Clarke barely got through the doors in time to make it to her first class, where she spent the whole period copying down the notes she missed while everyone else had free time. 

The next class brightened her mood, Mrs. Cleary assured Clarke she would easily catch up to everyone else on the painting project they started. This was her third year with Mrs. Cleary, and the older woman adored Clarke and her art. She could turn in a project two weeks late and still receive an A, though Mrs. Cleary would tell her to "keep it hush hush."

Today didn't feel nearly as slow as the first day. Before she could catch her breath, two classes passed and she headed to her locker to exchange books and drop off art supplies. 

"Claaarke! What happened to you?" Octavia hugged the blonde from behind as she shuffled things around in her locker. 

"I was sick, I'm sorry I dashed out on you guys," she patted Octavia's hands. 

"You're lucky you missed Spanish, it was so boring." 

Clarke closed her locker and turned around to face her friend, leaning back against the metal. "Why?"

"Mr. Jimenez gave us the syllabus and then played Gone With the Wind. It took us both days to watch it. It wasn't even in Spanish, I don't know what he was thinking, but I made sure he gave you the seat next to me."

"Oh thank god," Clarke smiled, "I thought I was gonna have to make a new friend."

"Shut up," Octavia lightly shoved Clarke into the locker. 

"Guys! Let's go to the party tonight!" Raven barreled down the hall, her neon pink windbreaker fluttered behind her and swished as she halted. 

"What party?" Octavia glanced around, hoping nobody heard. 

"The one at Alton's house, his parents told him he could throw a party for his birthday."

"His house is huge, it'll be crazy!" Octavia bounced excitedly. "Come on Clarke, I know you hate parties, but at least come with us for, like, two hours! Have a drink or two, that always loosens you up!"

Clarke hummed and rolled her eyes slowly, drawing it out as long as possible to milk all the suspense she could get. "Fine, I'll go. I just don't want to be 'loose'."

"Bitchin'! I'll pick you guys up at 7. Thank you Clarkey," Raven grinned and hugged the two girls before sprinting off to tell more people. 

Clarke sighed. "I hope he didn't enlist Raven as his recruiter, the whole school will show up."

"As if that's a lot of people," Octavia chuckled and bumped Clarke with her hip. "Let's go find Michael."

The bell rang.

"Welp, just kidding," Octavia huffed in agitation. "I'll find you guys at lunch."

\---

Cars of all makes and models lined Clarke's street and nearly blocked her driveway. 

Alton's party already looked to be a rager, and the sun hadn't yet left the sky. He lived ten houses down from Clarke, yet she watched as groups of teens walked past her house from the opposite direction, likely a couple blocks down, from whatever parking spaces remained. 

"Are you going to that party?" Abby leaned against the wall beside the window through which Clarke peered.

"Yeah, not for very long though. Raven and Octavia really want me to go."

"I don't know if I'm okay with you going, there's no way that kid got permission to have this many people go over there."

"Mom, he's a high school kid and his parents are out of town, what do you expect?" Clarke turned her head slightly away from her mother to roll her eyes.

"Is that what you do when I leave town?"

"All I do is eat ice cream with Michael and watch stupid movies."

Abby chuckled. "Remember when I found out you two went and saw Fast Times at Ridgemont High?"

"Oh my god, Mom," Clarke groaned and plopped down on the couch exaggeratedly. 

"I should've known you liked girls from that point, I don't think any boy-loving girl would be that desperate to see Phoebe Cates' breasts."

"Moooom," Clarke groaned once more, though the embarrassment gnawed eagerly at her stomach this time around. "I still like boys too, you know."

"But which is better: Phoebe Cates or the cutest boy at your school?"

Clarke glowered and Abby walked back to the kitchen, laughing.

\---

"Everyone's staring at you, Clarke," Raven whispered into Clarke's ear as she returned from making a couple of drinks. 

"As if I didn't notice," Clarke hissed, eyes darting about the dim, crowded living room. "Do I have something on my face?"

Octavia surveyed the blonde and shook her head. "You look hot, I don't know what their deal is."

"This isn't fun, guys," Clarke muttered before sipping at her drink. "Can I go home now?"

Octavia frowned. "I'll go find Michael, and if he can't get you to have a good time then we'll go back to your place."

"Thank you," Clarke sighed and leaned back against the wall.

Octavia disappeared among the swaying bodies. 

Raven's eyes narrowed at the group of basketball players whispering and staring at Clarke.

"Yo Niylah, the fuck are you talking about?" Raven called across the room.

Clarke tensed as the muscular basketball player turned away from her group and stalked over to the two girls. "Hey Griff, is it true? Are you knocked up?"

"What?" Clarke's eyes popped. "No! Who told you that?!"

"Can't say, I'm not the only one who knows, though. My girls have heard it all over the school."

"I'm not pregnant!" Clarke balled her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. 

"Whoa, Niylah, kick rocks, yeah?" Michael appeared as Clarke's hero, with Lexa trailing closely behind.

Niylah scoffed, unfazed. "Why don't you make me, Richardson."

Niylah appeared to subtly grow larger in the chest and shoulders. Her eyes burned through her target. That is, until Lexa caught up with her and Clarke's mutual friend. The whole school knew every last detail of Niylah and Lexa's rivalry, which had been budding and sprouting since eighth grade. The way Lexa's green eyes pierced Niylah's denied any trace of their previous friendship. On the basketball court, Lexa tolerated the shorter girl. Anywhere else, however, she was fair game.

Lexa hadn't even opened her mouth before Niylah backed off and returned to the fraction of the team that was there.

Clarke couldn't help the attraction she felt to Lexa in that moment. Part of her was scared, but the other part wanted nothing more than to be protected again and again by this girl.

\---

"I knew we shouldn't have let her go," Octavia huffed, the right side of her body completely occupied with supporting Raven's dead weight. 

"Then why did you let her?" Clarke groaned on the other side of the drunk girl, her arms struggling to keep the brunette upright. "There's no way we can make it back to my house, she's too heavy."

"Clarke!" Michael yelled from the front door of Alton's house. "Where are you going?!"

"Taking Raven home!" 

He ran down the steps, Lexa in tow. 

Clarke forced herself to focus on holding Raven. If she let her concentration slip to Lexa for even one second, she might drop one of her best friends. 

"You can take her to my house, it's closer. Right there," Lexa pointed two doors over.

"Oh thank god," Octavia sighed. "Clarke lives waaaay down there."

"Yeah... I do," Clarke realized. Stupid! she thought. She's been five doors down this whole time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to make this chapter longer but I got impatient...oops.


	4. August 25-26, 1988

"I looove you guys, sooo much," Raven slurred. 

Lexa had taken over Octavia's shift of watching Raven, much to O's relief. Raven's presence - hammered or not - calmed Lexa's nerves as she sat beside Clarke, backs against the side of Lexa's bathtub. 

"I mean it - Lexyy, I barely ev- ... even know you! What's up with that?" Raven slapped her hand on the toilet seat, her eyebrows crinkled together.

Lexa shrugged. "You should be asking Clarke, she's already known me for...well this is day three."

"Griff! You've been keep-" hiccup "Keeping this.. this wonderful specimen away from me for three days? Three.. are you hiding her from me? Are you sprung?"

"Oh my god," Clarke rested her forehead on her knees, hiding her reddening face from the two other girls. Denying Raven's last inquiry would be a blatant lie, and regardless of how drunk she may be, Raven could always catch Clarke's lies. 

"S-see, I know whassup," Raven closed her eyes and pointed a finger at the blonde. 

The situation was more comical for Lexa, or perhaps it was the slight buzz she had going that made it seem that way. "What else do you know, wise one?" She crossed her arms over her knees, leaning ever so slightly closer. "Ancient secrets?"

"I'll tell you what," Raven sat up straighter, using the toilet as leverage. "Clarkey here loved seeing whassername's tits in the theater."

"Really?" Lexa grinned, amused. "What's her name, Clarke?" 

"Oh my god," Clarke lifted her head, replacing her knees with her hands as a cover. "It was the girl in the movie, not some rando from school. Raven, shut up."

"She likes tits," Raven whispered (though not so quietly) at Lexa. "Shh, it's a secret though."

"Okay! It's your bedtime!" Clarke sprung up from the tiled floor and hauled her friend up from her position by the toilet. "You're done, time for sleep."

Lexa flushed the toilet and squeezed past the two girls into the hallway. "She can take my brother's old room." 

With Clarke's help, Raven hobbled down the dark hallway and into the room farthest down.

"Yikes," Lexa chuckled.

\-----

Clarke walked down the stairs of Lexa's house as silently as possible. Octavia, Lexa, and Michael lounged in the living room, eyes turning from the TV to the blonde.

"How's she doing?" Octavia sighed.

"She's finally sleeping. Not before she had the chance to embarrass me, though."

"Oh, we heard," Michael smirked. He went limp and imitated Raven's slurring, "Are you sprung, Clarke?"

The girls on the couch laughed, and Clarke wished she could disappear. "Am I the target for tonight?"

"Shit, yeah. Turns out basically the whole school thinks you're pregnant," Octavia pressed her lips together. "And they think Michael's the father."

Everyone was silent, glancing around at each other. Michael was the first to cackle and the girls followed. 

"What idiots," Michael wiped at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "They already suspect I'm gay, they can't even make up their minds."

The group erupted into another fit of giggles, shushing each other in an attempt to quiet down. 

Octavia stretched and stood. "Ah jeez, I should get home. Anyone need a ride?"

"Ooh me!" Michael hopped up and hugged Clarke. "You should probably stay the night here, Raven probably won't even remember who Lexa is."

Clarke's heart skipped a beat. Spend the night...at Lexa's house? "Michael no I-"

"Byeee I'll be home for dinner tomorrow night!" Michael pecked Clarke on the cheek and dashed out the door to catch up with Octavia. 

Defeated, Clarke turned to Lexa, wringing out her hands in an attempt to quell her anxiety. "So...where should I sleep tonight?"

"Um...you can take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, no, I don't want to kick you out of your own bed. I'll bunk with Raven." Clarke turned and headed up the stairs slowly, careful not to agitate the creaking steps.

Lexa's thoughts raced, flying by at breakneck speed. Michael would be disappointed if she didn't make some sort of move. 'Progress is progress,' he'd always say. "Wait, Clarke," she inhaled deeply to steady herself when Clarke glanced over her shoulder. "Just...sleep with me tonight. I mean, in my bed. With me. Sleep."

The brunette's obvious nervousness charmed Clarke. "Okay," she smiled, returning to the task of climbing the stairs without waking the sleeping mother in the room below the steps. 

"Okay." Lexa finally exhaled, out of earshot. She stood alone in the living room for several moments, trying to collect herself and gather up the courage to actually go upstairs and sleep in the same bed with Clarke. Her buzz was wearing off, taking with it the pluck she developed in the bathroom, thanks to Raven. She contemplated knocking back a quick shot of her mom's liquor, but brandy breath probably wasn't the way to win Clarke over. Instead, she settled on filling two glasses with water and conquering her fears (almost) completely sober. "Okay."

The flight of stairs wasn't nearly long enough to allow her the time to regulate her heartbeat, or even cease the shaking in her hands. The water in the glasses splashed side to side, nearly spilling. Lexa inhaled and exhaled deeply, to no avail. She gently pushed open her door with her hip, focusing on steadying her hands. 

"Hey," Clarke smiled, already cozy in Lexa's bed.

"Hey," Lexa's face matched Clarke's, a mask covering her tension. "I brought some water." 

"Thanks," Clarke took the glass from Lexa's hand, accidentally grazing her fingers. The contact stopped Clarke's heart for a moment. Meanwhile, Lexa's could not stop pounding in her chest.

"No problem," Lexa replied, wanting to kick herself over the faint waver in her voice. She grabbed some pajamas out of the dresser and stepped into her bathroom to change.

"What am I doing," she whispered to her reflection in the mirror. "Oh my god," she splashed cold water on her face, desperately trying to steel her nerves. 

Slipping into pajamas wasn't enough. Lexa brushed out her hair and pulled it over her shoulder, making sure each strand was placed perfectly. Brushing her teeth more resembled the vigorous scrubbing of tile grout, and she swished her mouthwash around until her eyes watered from the sting of the alcohol. Focusing on the tasks at hand dramatically decreased her anxiety, and the thought of stepping back into the bedroom only vaguely worried her at this point. The cold water she'd splashed on her face really cut down on the blush spread under her skin. The tight tank top accentuated her abs, and she flexed just to see what she had to work with. Satisfied, she opened the door and made her way to the bed.

Clarke couldn't be bothered to monitor her eyes' actions. They unabashedly fixed on the other girl's abdomen before moving up to her chest, unbound. It took all her might to keep a breathy "wow" from escaping its confines. 

"It appears Raven was right," Lexa smirked, proud of herself for playing it cool.

Clarke was so wrapped up in the sight before her that she couldn't even be ashamed of being caught. Her only move to save face was to play dumb. She snapped her eyes up to meet Lexa's. "Right about what?"

"She likes tits," Lexa parroted, allowing a laugh to follow. 

Despite feeling sheepish, Clarke decided being straightforward was what Michael would have pushed her to do. She could almost hear him egging her on. "How could I not?" She quirked a brow.

Lexa didn't expect the confidence Clarke radiated, especially after seeing how bashful she was when Raven chattered. "I can't disagree with you there," she finally relaxed her shoulders and slid under the covers, careful not to touch Clarke.

In reality, only a few seconds passed before Clarke spoke, but those few seconds they spent staring at each other felt like an eternity.

"How do you know Michael?"

Lexa winced. Meeting Michael was the only good thing that came out of the situation in which they met. Two years had already passed, but the thought of it still had potential to make her physically ill. "Well...he was there for me when nobody else was."

Clarke dug through her memory. She and Michael were so close, he had to have told her about meeting Lexa, especially since the circumstances seemed so serious. Right? "Can I ask what happened?"

Lexa pressed her lips together, the movement so minuscule that Clarke wouldn't have even noticed if she wasn't already so focused on the brunette.  
She turned to her side to face Clarke, hands beneath the pillow to elevate her head. "It's kind of sad."

"Nothing heals the heart quite like a good cry," Clarke encouraged, a weak smile on her lips. 

Lexa chuckled. "True," she sighed. "I was in love with this girl in eighth grade. Seems dumb, I know. But I was, and she actually loved me back. I'd already been outed earlier that year, so when I asked her out I figured I had nothing to lose. We really clicked, so holding hands and just being together at school felt right." Lexa swallowed thickly and fought against the forming tears stinging her eyes. "She left for the bathroom in the middle of class one day. She was gone for fifteen minutes, so our teacher sent someone to go check on her. This girl came back screaming, 'call the doctor, call the doctor.' I ran to that bathroom, and she was just laying there on the floor, she was bleeding from her neck and reaching for me, she couldn't even talk. The next thing I knew, your mom was in there with three other people, pulling me away. They came with all the supplies an emergency room would have, but..." Lexa drew in a stabilizing breath. "She just lost too much blood, there was nothing they could do. When the news broke that it was classified as a hate crime, Michael introduced himself and came out to me. He was the only person apart from Costia who even talked to me after I was outed. He's probably the only reason I didn't kill myself that year."

Clarke didn't notice the tears brimming from her own eyes until she tasted the salt of them. "I'm so sorry, Lexa..." 

"It's in the past, I try not to think about it too much."

Clarke scooted closer to Lexa and wrapped an arm around her, snuggling close. "I'm glad you had Michael. I'm happy you're still here." 

Lexa almost couldn't believe she was so close to Clarke, and that for once she actually felt comforted while talking about her lost love. "I'm surprised you didn't know about any of this."

"I must have still been living with my dad in San Francisco. My mom probably didn't want to breach confidentiality."

"Wouldn't have been much of a breach anyway," Lexa murmured. "Everybody knew everything about it, except who the killer was. We still don't know, it's a cold case." 

Clarke lightly scratched Lexa's back over her shirt. Nothing she could do would take away the pain, but offering comfort seemed to console Lexa all the same. 

"Your mom played a big part in spreading acceptance afterwards, though. She went around the schools and held assemblies, talking about equality and kindness. People started coming up to me and asking how I was doing right after she spoke at my middle school."

"I had no idea." Clarke fell silent, reflecting. Sure, her mom couldn't tell her about the crime, but surely she was allowed to talk about her speeches?

"You're just as wonderful as she is," Lexa whispered, not allowing herself to regret the honesty. "You know more about me, now I want to know about you."

Clarke felt her nerves getting worked up at the close contact with the brunette, now that neither of them were crying anymore. "I moved to Trigeda freshman year, much to my dismay. I love art, but helping my mom at her office is also pretty interesting. I don't really like parties, but I'm kind of glad I went to this one," she giggled. 

"You know I have to ask," Lexa smiled down at Clarke. "How do you know Michael?"

"Oh lord, no. That's too embarrassing," Clarke shook her head against Lexa's chest.

"You do know that if you won't tell me, he will, right?" Lexa snickered. "Your choice."

Clarke grunted and rolled her eyes. She mumbled, "hisboytoywascheatingonhimwithme."

"What?" Lexa leaned impossibly closer. 

Clarke groaned. "His boy toy was cheating on him with me." 

"Ah, I remember that," Lexa chuckled. "He said he teamed up with the girl to get revenge, but he never told me it was you."

"Oh no," Clarke buried her face in her own hair, Lexa's chest, and part of the blanket. "Please tell me that's all you know about that," she grumbled through the layers of protection.

Lexa laughed, delighted with having the upper hand. "Well, I know that Michael caught you blowing this guy under the football field bleachers."

Clarke squealed, unable to control her embarrassment. The mortification paralyzed her. 

"I'm not judging, I just find it amazing that he was able to hide his bisexuality for so long," she beamed and attempted to uncover Clarke. 

The blonde receded deeper into her cover at the prodding. "It's not that hard," she mumbled, thinking the blanket would muffle her statement.

It didn't.

"Oh?" Lexa's brows shot up and the tiniest spark of hope drove her forward. "And you know this how?"

Clarke cursed herself internally. Well fuck, she thought. Her immediate reaction was to cover it up, to turn it into a joke. However, she remembered that Michael was not only close with her, but with Lexa as well. He spilled the beans to her about everything, no doubt he did the same with Lexa. She figured that the odds of Lexa already knowing about her bisexual tendencies were high. She hadn't even faced this demon herself, hadn't approached it and demanded the answer to her speculation. Moving to Trigeda shoved her even farther back into the closet than where she stood initially, and she'd only ever joked about it with Michael. No serious consideration, no self-exploration. Despite her conscience yelling at her to pipe down, her gut hijacked her response. "I think I like girls too."

Lexa's heart thumped so loudly she could swear Clarke heard it. That tiny spark of hope exploded like a firework. "How long have you suspected?"

"Since seventh grade, at least," Clarke ventured. "I was making decent progress at learning to accept it, but then I moved here." She rolled her eyes. "Clearly this isn't a good place to be out."

"It's really not," Lexa sighed. "But just look at Michael and me, we've stuck together and we're doing okay. Technically, Michael isn't out, but..." she shrugged. "And thanks to your mom, things aren't as bad as they used to be."

Clarke chuckled. "Yeah, my mom...oh shit, my mom!" she shot up from her position against Lexa and scanned the room for a clock. "She's going to kill me, it has to be past midnight!"

"Clarke relax, it's okay," Lexa eased the blonde back down onto a pillow. "Michael and Octavia called her while you were putting Raven to bed, she was fine with you staying here."

Of course they did, Clarke mused. Michael really had no chill with this whole Clarke-Lexa thing. And...of course, her mom was probably ecstatic that she was staying with 'that cute friend' of hers. 

\----

"Seriously, I swear," Clarke laughed. For hours, she and Lexa shared embarrassing stories, starting from kindergarten and working their way up. 5 A.M. was creeping up on them, but neither of them paid any mind to the hands of Lexa's bedside clock. They'd gained some physical distance following Clarke's outburst about being late, but gradually gravitated back to each other over the course of the hours, faces now only three inches apart. "Okay, now for this year: what's the worst thing that happened?"

"We're only one week into the school year, Clarke," the brunette chided lightheartedly. 

"Hey, I've already embarrassed myself. In front of you, no less," Clarke shook her head and smiled. "Then again, you're more graceful than me."

"Sure, I was real graceful when we first met," Lexa retorted, a crooked smile pulling her lips. 

"You seemed...stoic, that's not so bad."

"Maybe outwardly, but on the inside I was praying I wouldn't make a fool of myself."

Clarke chuckled. "I know I did. I just about strangled Michael, too. 'Does Clarke look good?'" she imitated Michael's crafty question. 

"You did look good," Lexa blurted. "I mean..." she sifted through her brain for a recovery. Too late. "Yeah. You looked good. Really good. You always do."

Clarke blushed and looked down to where their hands just barely touched. 

Lexa couldn't take it anymore. The late - or was it early? - hour granted her an extraordinary amount of courage. She'd been the one to slide closer so their hands would touch, she complimented Clarke whenever the chance arose, and now she allowed herself the bravery to lean in closer. 

Blue eyes lifted their gaze in response to the movement and met intense green. The pupils before her were far more dilated than they were a moment ago, and she had a feeling that hers were a direct reflection. They dropped to Lexa's lips for a split second before closing, the other girl's pair of eyes following suit. 

Clarke bridged the gap between them and lightly pressed her lips to Lexa's. 

This was nothing like kissing a guy. Lexa's lips were soft and full, and her reaction was so much more gentle. It wasn't the power-hungry reciprocation she was used to. Instead, it was delicate, like she might disintegrate otherwise. She felt Lexa smile against her lips, and Clarke couldn't help but smile too. It had only been three days since they first met, yet that felt like it was too much time wasted. 

Lexa pulled back slightly, gauging the blonde's reaction. She beamed when Clarke's eyes fluttered open and locked onto hers. Clarke slipped a gentle hand behind Lexa's neck and pulled her forward, applying a bit more force with her lips this time around. 

Lexa shifted her body forward and rested a hand on Clarke's hip - and to her surprise, apparently Clarke had taken her jeans off before getting into bed. 

If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn Clarke read her mind. "Sorry, I just can't sleep in jeans," the blonde smirked and reconnected their lips before Lexa could say anything...as if she could form words right now anyway.

In the past, while kissing Costia, Lexa worried so much about if she was doing it right. She would focus on every movement she made, and wouldn't dare try to step into new territory. Everything was so different with Clarke. Her mind went blank as her body took over, the worry about what to do and how to do it didn't even break the barrier into her consciousness. Clarke bit the taller girl's lower lip, and instead of thinking about what to do next, she just... reacted. Lexa pulled Clarke closer by the waist and communicated her intensity effectively. Clarke whimpered, submissive, and moved her hand from Lexa's neck to her hair, entangling it. Without thinking, Lexa nipped Clarke's lip, and was rewarded when Clarke pressed her body more firmly against Lexa's. 

Though she was better now at letting go and enjoying the experience, Lexa still wouldn't dare lose control. She dug her nails into Clarke's hip to restrain herself when the urge to roll Clarke onto her back edged up on her. But god, was Clarke pushing it. Every time Lexa tightened her grip, Clarke let out a breathy moan. It taunted Lexa, beckoned her to cross another boundary. 

Thankfully, Clarke busied herself with kissing up Lexa's neck to her ear.

"Fuck," Lexa whispered to herself. Of course, Clarke heard and nipped her earlobe in response.  
As Clarke sucked lightly on the side of her neck, Lexa debated if she really, really wanted a hickey there. The blonde wasn't sucking quite hard enough to make one, but it was just enough to give Lexa the thrilling thought of potentially being caught with one. The fact that Clarke was respectful enough to avoid leaving a mark without permission just attracted Lexa more. She decided to take a chance and slide her hand up from Clarke's waist to her breasts, lightly palming them over her shirt. No bra...fuck, this girl's gonna be the death of me. Lexa relished in Clarke's reaction - a pause and gasp, returning her lips to Lexa's.

Never in a million years did Clarke think she'd end up making out with Lexa, especially in a bed. A burst of adrenaline ravaged her body when she realized that they really were in a bed, and this could very easily escalate into more than making out. Her heart raced, and she couldn't tell if it was nerves or excitement. The faint throbbing between her legs suggested excitement, yet her flipping stomach and shaking hands suggested nerves. She'd never felt quite like this before, usually she was calm and collected. A twitch of the hand on her chest grabbed her attention. Lexa was so reserved, she couldn't help but wonder what held the green-eyed girl back. That is, until Lexa pulled back and lifted Clarke's chin.

"Is this okay? Are you okay?" Lexa panted, cheeks red and lips parted.

That was it. It was respect, endearment, reverence. It tugged at Clarke's heartstrings. "Yes," she kissed Lexa briefly. "Don't be afraid." Clarke dove back into the kiss with the same intensity, and squeezed her hand over Lexa's on her chest, urging the other girl to let go of all her worries. 

Lexa responded exactly as Clarke had hoped, forfeiting at least a little bit of control.

Clarke rolled onto her back, pulling Lexa toward her.  
It seemed that Lexa had shaken off the majority of her inhibitions, as she laid partly on top of Clarke, resting most of her weight on the half of her body on the bed. Clarke's nipples had hardened beneath her touch. Don't be afraid, she chanted internally. Pulling back to watch the bottom girl's reaction, Lexa palmed Clarke's breast and pinched the nipple between her thumb and the side of her first finger. Clarke inhaled sharply, eyebrows raised, and arched up into Lexa's touch. 

Lexa kissed Clarke's neck while continuing with her hand, and realized she would never get tired of Clarke's little noises. She experimented with different types of kisses, pressures, and bites on her neck to discover what other noises she could pull from the blonde. 

A gasped moan had just graced her ears before she heard a loud thump on the wall, and a hoarse "god damn it."

Clarke's eyes jolted open, and to Lexa's amusement, her pupils were absolutely blown.

A muffled "Griffin" came through the wall, and Clarke groaned. 

Clarke reluctantly rolled out of bed and was about to open the door when Lexa pounced from behind. "What, what?" Clarke whispered insistently. 

"You're not wearing any pants," Lexa whispered, and kissed her on the cheek before opening the door just enough to slide through and help Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. Life was so hectic for a while and I just couldn't think about writing. But here I am! Let me know what you think!


	5. August 26, 1988

A sharp knock at the door startled Clarke conscious.

"I'm off to work, Lex. Your friend just left," stated a voice muffled by Lexa's bedroom door.

"Okay, have a good day," Lexa called, an arm slung over her forehead.

Clarke opened her eyes and snuck a glance in Lexa's direction. Even after all that went down last night, she still looked away bashfully when her eyes met Lexa's. 

"I find it hard to believe Raven was able to function enough to leave this early," Lexa chuckled in an attempt to ease the tension. 

Clarke relaxed, the light mood from last night returning. "She's young, she probably threw up and went on her way."

"Harsh," Lexa smiled and stretched. She chanced a look at her clock. "Christ, it's only seven."

"That gives us...two hours of sleep," Clarke grumbled and rubbed at her eyes. "Well, me. How long were you up with Raven?"

"Only ten minutes, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow," the brunette yawned. "We can sleep more, if you want. I have no issue with you staying here," she smiled.

Clarke blushed. It was too early for her mind to start racing, but that certainly didn't mean it wasn't already turning its gears. She wished she didn't feel so awkward, she and Lexa had shared enough stories and saliva last night to solidify any friendship...or whatever this was now. Yet she couldn't shake the fear and doubt that welled up when the desire to cuddle tried to take over.

"What's going on in there," Lexa spoke softly, raising a hand to lightly run her fingers over Clarke's cheek. 

She took a moment to appreciate the tender touch. "What are we doing?" she looked up at green eyes, hesitant. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I'm...not sure," Lexa offered, commanding a tone of voice that left the door open to any possibility, but that let it be known it could be closed, if Clarke so wished. "Do we have to know exactly what we're doing?"

Clarke sighed and traced patterns on Lexa's wrist, resting between them. "I've just...never..."

"Been with a girl?" Lexa teased a smile. 

Clarke nodded, a sheepish grin stretching her lips. 

"We can take it at your own pace," Lexa proposed, hoping desperately that this wasn't a fluke. That maybe, at the very least, they could be friends and develop a stronger bond.

Again, Clarke nodded, then her expression fell ever so slightly. "How do I tell my friends...or my mom...I don't know what I should- what if people at school-"

Lexa used her thumb to stroke Clarke's lips. "You don't need to tell anyone if you don't want to. I'm not going to make you come out if you're not ready."

Clarke exhaled sharply and kissed the thumb on her lips, then grabbed the hand it belonged to and held it against her cheek. Just as she was about to say "thank you," the phone on Lexa's bedside table rung, far too shrill for the morning. She frowned when the hand cupping her cheek flew to the phone.

"Hello?"

...

"It's for you, he's calling from your house," Lexa smirked.

Clarke held the phone up to her ear.

"Relax, don't do it, when you want to go to it!" Michael screeched from the other end, absolutely butchering the Frankie Goes to Hollywood song.

Lexa snorted.

Clarke rolled over her and slammed the phone back on the switch, shaking her head. Before she could return to her side of the bed, Lexa held her still. "You know he's going to take that as a sign, right?" 

"God damn it," Clarke huffed, pulling a laugh from Lexa. "I think there's no convincing him otherwise, regardless."

Perhaps it wasn't quite the right moment to kiss Clarke again. Lexa restrained herself, but to her surprise, Clarke was the one to lean down and capture her lips. 

Of course, Lexa didn't protest. And she certainly didn't complain when Clarke readjusted herself to press her body completely to Lexa's. 

The phone rang again. 

Without breaking away from the kiss, Lexa reached over, scrabbled for the phone, picked it up, and set it back down to stop the ringing. 

Mere seconds later, it rang again. Lexa groaned as she broke the kiss and brought the phone to her ear. "Hello? ... Shit, I'm on my way!" 

Clarke hastily hopped out of bed, and Lexa darted to her dresser. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she rasped, digging through her drawers to produce basketball shorts and a jersey. "I forgot there was practice today, that was Niylah."

"I thought you hated Niylah," Clarke questioned, standing beside the bed, pantsless. "That's how it seemed at the party?"

"I can't stand her, but she's my co-captain," Lexa grumbled, scrambling into the bathroom to change. 

"Do you need a ride to practice?" Clarke projected as she shimmied into her jeans. 

"Yes please, there's no way I can make it on my bike," Lexa exited the bathroom in her practice uniform, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. 

Clarke questioned why she'd never gone to any of the girls' basketball games before, seeing Lexa in those short-shorts as she tied her shoes...did something for her. Now is not the time, she scolded herself. 

\----

If Lexa hadn't been late for practice, there was no way Clarke would have left that house, disheveled as she looked. She'd thrown her hair up into a bun, courtesy of Lexa's spare hair tie. She didn't even bother putting her bra back on, instead opting to shove it in her bag and call it a morning. 

After dropping Lexa off at the school and driving aimlessly for who knows how long, nothing sounded better than caffeine. Clarke headed to the nearest convenience store to pick up a can of Tab. But as she wandered through the store, something other than carbonated beverages caught her eye. There, in a magazine stand toward the back of the store near the beer, sat issues of Playboy from the past six months. July's issue featured Cindy Crawford, and before she could rationalize, Clarke stuffed the magazine into her bag before weaving through the aisles to the cashier.

Despite her paranoia, the middle-aged man didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He greeted her, processed the transaction, and with a "have a good day" she was out the door, shaking as she lowered herself into her car. Sure, she drank alcohol at an illegal age and engaged in risky (sexual) behavior, but stealing? She blamed the raging hormones stirred up from last night, and rushed home as if the cashier would come running out any second.

As she approached her front door, she half expected to hear something dirty straight from Michael's mouth, but the living room sat empty and silent when she pushed open the door. She meandered around the house, ensuring it was indeed vacant, before stopping at the phone. The answering machine signaled with a blinking red light that it contained new messages, but the only thing she could focus on was shutting herself into her room to look over her stolen treasure. 

She pulled the curtains shut and plopped down on the bed, setting her bag on the floor after fishing out the magazine. There she was on the cover: Cindy Crawford. Topless, the photo cut off just before anything showed. Clarke almost couldn't muster the gall to open the damned thing, but once she did, nothing held her back. She eased in by reading the articles first, almost convincing herself that she wasn't that horny. But who was she kidding, she stole a dirty magazine.

It wasn't long before Clarke found herself staring intensely at Cindy's beach photos. They went from bikini, to bikini bottom, to half a one-piece, to completely nude. Seeing Cindy's nude, toned body covered in sand was the last straw for Clarke. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans to allow just enough room for her hand to squeeze in. She pressed against herself, reveling in the pressure she didn't even realize she needed. Her eyes strayed from the magazine to her ceiling, where their lack of focus ultimately persuaded her to close them. The images of Cindy Crawford slowly transformed into Phoebe Cates' pool scene from Fast Times at Ridgemont High. However, it wasn't long before memories of the night before flooded her conscience, triggering a reaction of harsher breathing and faster hand movements. She recalled Lexa's gravelly voice when she slid her tongue up the brunette's neck, and the sting of fingernails digging into her hip. The thought of Lexa grasping roughly at her chest dragged a moan from her throat. 

Clarke couldn't remember the last time she touched herself, but it definitely wasn't this good. Her hand never slipped beneath her underwear, yet she was perfectly content with the stimulation through the wet fabric. 

"Oh."

Clarke's daydreams had become so vivid in her ecstasy that she almost convinced herself she could hear Lexa's voice.

"Um..."

Actually...no. That was Lexa's voice.

Clarke yanked her hand from her pants and grabbed the nearest pillow to block herself, all the while dying on the inside.

"I'm sorry, I- Michael just-" Lexa stammered, face bright red.

Michael popped his head through the doorway from behind Lexa. "Ooh, what's going on here?" he spotted the magazine beside Clarke, and completely entered the doorway. "Is that Playboy?!" he squawked, covering his all-too-tickled grin with both hands. "Clarke where-"

"Get out!" Clarke cried, chucking a pillow at her friend, just narrowly missing Lexa. "Out!"

Michael pushed Lexa back with his behind and shut the door behind them.

Clarke slapped her hands onto her face, pulling them down forcefully. "I hate my life."

\--

Lexa rushed out to the living room, still beet red and slightly dizzy. "Oh my god."

Michael strolled more casually down the hallway, whistling, taking his sweet time to meet her. "Well that was unexpected."

"She probably hates me now," Lexa laced her hands together and rested them atop her head, overheating just like she did at practice. "Oh my god, she's never going to talk to me again."

"She'll be fine, she's been through worse," Michael flopped his hand over in the air. 

"No, oh my god," Lexa shook her head, eyes squeezed shut in distress. "We made out last night but there's no way she was ready for me to see something like that." Lexa slid her hands down to her face.

"You guys what?" Michael, grinned, open-mouthed. "That's good, then!"

"What is good? I don't see any good here!" Lexa trembled, hands now on her hips. 

"Just convince her you thought it was hot, I mean, you wouldn't be lying." Michael smirked. When he received no reaction, he grabbed Lexa by the elbow and towed her out the front door to his car. "Seriously though, it'll boost her ego, take away some of the embarrassment, and maybe even make things...progress a little," he winked and opened the passenger door. "It'll be fine, I promise."


	6. August 28-29, 1988

"Oh thank god you're here," Abby pulled Michael into a bear hug. "She's barely been out of her room since Friday, she didn't even come out for dinner tonight. She won't tell me what's wrong."

Michael stifled a cackle. "It's nothing, it's fine, don't worry. I'll do my thing, you can go to bed worry-free," he strutted down the hallway to Clarke's room, careful to knock before entering. "Hey Clarkey, staying hydrated?"

Clarke pulled up the blanket to hide her face. "Go away, I'm dead."

"No can do, homefry," he shut the door and sat beside Clarke on the bed. He waited several moments for a response, but received nothing. "Come on, it wasn't that bad. And didn't you listen to your answering machine? I told you we were coming over. Whatever... Lexa liked it, anyway."

"Not even," Clarke groaned and shoved the covers down. "She probably thinks I'm disgusting now. She caught me with a dirty magazine, literally, like, two hours after- ...she just, saw it."

"She's been trying to call you all weekend," Michael leveled, kicking off his shoes to cross his legs on the bed, nudging Clarke to scoot over. "You think that she thinks you're disgusting, she thinks you hate her. Your mom's worried sick. And I already know what you two did, no need to cover it up."

"She told you?!"

"Not the point."

Clarke sighed. "I know, I know... I'm just so embarrassed. Getting caught with Brian was one thing, but I actually really like Lexa. I feel like I fucked it all up."

"The only thing you're doing to fuck it up is NOT. CALLING. HER. BACK." Michael leaned closer with each exclamation, eyes widening each time. 

"And what do you suggest I say? 'Hey, sorry that I stole a fucking magazine instead of batting for a home run'?"

"She's just as embarrassed as you are, Clarke."

"Unlikely," she rolled her eyes. 

"No, really, you should've-" he allowed himself a moment to chuckle. "You should've seen her face, she was totally buggin'."

Despite her efforts, Clarke cracked a smile. "That bad?"

"Chyeah, she looked like a tomato. She had to keep her window rolled down on our way to Pizza Hut."

"Aw, pizza without me?"

"Oh I'm sorry, were you not preparing to hole up in here for the winter?" Michael tilted his head.

"You could've brought some back," she mumbled, crossing her arms and feigning a pout. 

"Not without Lex, I couldn't," he shrugged. "You know, if you called her right now, it would probably-"

"I can't, I can't," Clarke sat up and hung her head in her hands. "I'll just...talk to her at school tomorrow, or something."

"Yeah, or something," Michael muttered as he stood to pull on his shoes. He slapped Clarke on the leg before turning for the door. "If you don't talk to her by the end of school tomorrow, I will physically drag you to her basketball practice and make you wait until the end to talk to her. Save yourself the disgrace, talk to her at lunch," he snickered.

\---

Octavia, Raven, and Clarke ambled through Trigeda High School's bustling hallways, passing the time before third period. The conversation lulled, coming to a halt shortly after they shared a laugh about Raven's mischief in Lexa's bathroom. 

"I can't sit with you guys at lunch, I need to talk to Lexa," Clarke breathed out. 

"Why? What's going on?" Octavia leaned forward, full of concern, for a better view of Clarke's face.

"Nothing, I just figured I'd get to know her, make her feel welcome before introducing her to this shitshow," she motioned to the three of them. 

"Or...you're sprung," Raven tittered and twisted her leg up to kick Clarke's butt.

"Hey! I'm not- I don't like girls!" she stuttered far too eagerly.

"Mmm I think Phoebe Cates would disagree," Octavia added, smug. 

"Why is that the one thing I'm known for?" Clarke shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can paint like fucking Michelangelo and I'm remembered for raving about tits - once, I might add."

"Damn Griff, defensive much?" Raven prodded. "You know, you're proving a good point for Freud here."

\---

Given that she'd already read 1984 just before moving to Trigeda, Clarke spent the majority of her english class doodling on lined paper. Hands, hair, eyes, lips... hadn't she seen these before?

"Ms. Griffin, since you seem so enthralled today, what hope does Winston hold for the proles?"

God, I hate this woman. Clarke battled the compulsion to roll her eyes and whip out the sass. 

"Well?"

She didn't have the patience for this, not today. "I don't know," she stated blandly.

"Then that's detention for not paying attention," Ms. Todd quickly scrawled down her notes on a detention slip.

"What! You can't-"

"One more word, that'll be two days' detention," the petite woman warned. 

Clarke fumed in her chair, arms crossed. The bell rang, and she snatched the piece of cardstock from Ms. Todd's outstretched hand. "Scumbag," she muttered once outside the room.

Down the hall, she noticed Michael and Lexa standing outside Mrs. Vincent's classroom. She wanted nothing more than to stop in her tracks and turn around, but Michael already spotted her, and lifted his brows, serving her a 'don't even think about it' expression. As Clarke drew closer, Michael patted Lexa on the shoulder, appeared to say "good luck" (though she couldn't be sure, the crowded hallway echoed every conversation), and trudged to his next class. 

"Hey," Lexa fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. 

"Hi," Clarke choked. Over Lexa's shoulder, she observed Michael turn around briefly, gesture vaguely, and return to his route. "Can we talk at lunch?"

"Sure," Lexa forced a weak but reassuring smile, desperately trying to cover the fact that her body was shaking and her brain would not pipe down. "Let's sit outside, nobody really eats out there."

Clarke nodded, turned on her heel, and marched to her seat, restricting her view to the board and her notebook. 

\---

Of course, the one time she wanted econ to last forever, it flew by in what felt like only ten minutes. She packed away her notebook and pencil sluggishly, ensuring Lexa left the room first and gained some distance.

Though she was far too nervous to consider eating at the moment, she still grabbed a chicken burger and cup of fruit from the cafeteria. Anything to stall, anything to buy her some time to relax. The waiting only made it worse, but she figured a little bit of denial wouldn't harm her too much here.  
Time must have been playing tricks on her, even the line to pay for lunch whizzed through in record time. Accepting that there was nothing left to do but go outside and sit down across from this girl that gave her butterflies in her stomach, she breathed deeply and willed her feet to carry her forward without any brain interference. 

Lexa claimed the table behind the bench directly next to the door. Her fingers plucked nervously at the brown paper bag on the table, only pausing momentarily when she caught sight of Clarke coming her way.

The blonde sat across from the other girl, and compelled herself to reach forward and soothe Lexa's tireless hands. "I'm sorry I didn't call you, I should've sucked it up and picked up the phone." She fiddled with Lexa's fingers until the door behind her opened, snapping her back into reality and the closet, forcing her to withdraw. 

"No, no..." Lexa shook her head and raked her fingers through her wavy brown hair. "I shouldn't have barged in, regardless of what Michael says he usually does," she rolled her eyes at the memory of Michael insisting 'it's fine, I do it all the time.' "I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I was so humiliated that I begged him to stay the night at my place so I didn't have to wallow in my embarrassment alone."

Clarke couldn't stop the giggle that broke out. "I should've done that."

"Hey, you have Raven and Octavia's shoulders to cry on," Lexa quipped.

"Ugh, I might as well tell them what's going on, I think they're onto me."

"So Raven remembers her remarks from Friday night?" Lexa ripped off a piece of the bag and folded it precisely.

"Remembers, cherishes, what have you," Clarke shrugged. 

Lexa smiled. "So...Cindy Crawford?"

"No, stop," Clarke folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. The rational part of her brain reminded her that whatever grilling she could ever receive over this incident would never be quite as appalling as the actual moment it happened, but that did nothing to curb the waves of embarrassment that crashed over her as a result. 

"I'm not judging, I just think you have good taste," she tapped her short nails on the plastic table. "And if you ever want to get rid of it, you know..."

Clarke lifted her head to raise a brow, and laughed in disbelief. "All this trouble over that damn magazine, and you still want to take a peek?"

"Hell yeah, unless there's something else you can show me." 

Outwardly, Lexa was all serenity, with a shade of mischief. Inwardly, though, she fought to dominate self-doubt and apprehension, taking whatever chance she could to exercise self-confidence and, in all honesty, some form of ego.  
It seemed her efforts paid off when Clarke's eyes darkened and flicked down to her tray.

Lexa smirked, pleased with herself, before conceding. "I'm kidding. Except about the magazine, I will gladly take it off your hands if you can't bear to keep it."

"You just won't quit," Clarke scoffed, her upward-tilted lips betraying her. 

\---

The last time Clarke was in detention, it was in fourth grade for stabbing a boy with her pencil. To this day she still can't believe her act of self-defense landed her in school-prison, but Ms. Todd's decision closely rivaled it.

She spent all 58 minutes bullshitting an analysis for the first six chapters of 1984, and, just to stick it to Ms. Todd, coupled each of Winston's actions with how they affected him later in the book. 3 o'clock rolled around and triggered the final bell of the day.

At least detention gave her the chance to finish what little homework she had. The joy of shoving her binder and all her books into the rusting locker lifted her spirits. 

Clarke began her brief journey home, but halted only halfway through the parking lot when a holler boomed from the gym's open door. Ear-piercing shoe squeaks followed, and within a split second Clarke realized it was the girls' basketball team at practice. Against her better judgment, she sauntered over to the domed building, on her toes to avoid garnering any attention. 

Of all the girls on the team, Lexa wasn't the tallest, or even the most built, but she was unquestionably the most agile. She weaved between her own teammates seamlessly, and if she couldn't find a direct route to her destination, her crossovers cleared the way. Claps and shouts from the bleachers alerted her to the audience the practice had. The majority of people must have been parents and siblings, she didn't notice hardly any classmates. Presuming it safe, she snuck along the wall of the gym to the bleachers and tiptoed up to the top row.

Lexa's abs were a dead giveaway to her athleticism, but Clarke had no idea she was this skilled. Even as her co-captain, Niylah couldn't directly compete with the lean brunette. Lexa had mentioned 'tolerating' Niylah on the court, but an elbow-check and subtle shove from the shorter girl indicated the virtue was not reciprocated.

"That's a foul!" the coach barked. "Underwood: five suicides. Everyone else: call it a day. I'll see you tomorrow," he tipped his hat and retreated to his office on the other side of the building. 

Niylah grunted and set to work on pacing the court. 

There had to be some valid reason behind this grudge, Clarke found it hard to believe someone would just naturally dislike Lexa so much. 

The families surrounding her stretched as they stood and gathered their belongings, trudging down the stairs of the bleachers and along the sides of the court, making small talk about basketball and any other sport their kids played.

Clarke listened for the voice she heard through Lexa's door on Friday morning, to no avail. All the adults talked at one point or another, none of their voices remotely resembled that of Lexa's mother. All for the best, she supposed. It wasn't like she had the nerve to introduce herself anyway.

The players shuffled out of the locker room and joined their families, heading out to their cars to finally go home. Except Niylah, of course. She was just entering the locker room as the last group of players filed out, Lexa among them. The brunette's chest was wrapped in plastic that held ice against her upper abdomen, where Niylah elbowed her. She tilted her head to both sides, cracking her neck, before seeing Clarke and picking up her pace to cut down on time apart. "Hey, what are you doing here?" 

"I had detention," Clarke pursed her lips. "And then I heard all the commotion, thought I'd check it out."

"Check it out or check me out?" she shifted her weight to one leg and tossed her gym bag to the opposite shoulder. 

"You're pushing your luck, Woods," Clarke enunciated.

Lexa didn't miss the flirtatious tone to Clarke's voice. 

It vanished all too quickly, morphing into concern. "Are you okay? That looked rough," Clarke gently prodded at the ice pack covering Lexa's ribs.

"Happens all the time. The ice is mostly just a preventative measure at this point," she sneered in the locker room's direction, almost certainly directing it toward its only occupant. 

"And...she hasn't been kicked off the team yet, why?" Clarke led the way out the door, slowing down to accommodate Lexa. Surely she was sore, though she'd never let Clarke know.

"I won't allow it." Lexa walked steadily beside Clarke through the parking lot and to the adjoining street. "She's too good of a player, I can sacrifice some patience for that."

"Well aren't you a saint," Clarke chuckled. They crossed the street into their neighborhood, now only a couple blocks from Clarke's house. "Is everyone on the team so...brutal?"

"Nah, Grace and Nina are okay." Lexa adjusted the bag of ice. "They help me keep the peace."

"So you have two allies?"

"Two good ones. Almost everyone else hangs out with Niylah, but they don't talk shit or anything."

One house past Clarke's, Lexa whips her head around and stops in her tracks. "We just passed your house."

"I'm aware," Clarke linked arms with Lexa on her gym bag-less side and guided her forward. "I'm ensuring you get home safely." 

"How chivalrous, I'm honored."

"You should be."

"You jest, surely." Lexa glanced at Clarke from the corner of her eye and smirked when she caught the blonde looking back up at her. They crossed Lexa's lawn and stopped at her doorstep, breaking apart to face each other. "Would you like to come inside? Nobody's home."

"Is that a proposition?" Clarke challenged, maintaining steady eye contact.

Lexa gaped, completely thrown off guard by Clarke's ingenuity. "If that's- I can, uh-"

"Calm down," Clarke laughed. "I jest, surely," she poked a finger beneath the plastic coming down from Lexa's shoulder and pulled her closer. Clarke used the momentum to bring her lips to Lexa's, gently brushing them together before initiating a kiss. 

Lexa instinctively dropped her gym bag and wrapped an arm around Clarke's waist, the other hand cradling Clarke's face. Just when she thought she had Clarke figured out, the blonde would up the ante or drop downtempo. The ice taped to Lexa's body melted more rapidly with the rise in her body heat, and the condensation soaking through her jersey provided sweet relief. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Clarke purred and walked back across the lawn toward her own house, leaving Lexa on the porch, dumbfounded.


	7. August 30, 1988

Michael screeched.

...not that that's a surprise.

"I am dead. You guys killed me," he fanned himself, even though he and Lexa were stood outside her house in the chilly early-morning air, chatting before trekking to school. Lexa should have known he would find some way to wring last night's events from her. "So what's up with Clarke's whole sexuality situation, is she laying claim to gay fame or what?"

"That is not for me to disclose," Lexa shook her head, eyes closed in astonishment at the lanky boy's word choice. 

They started down the sidewalk. "Are you a lawyer or something? 'Disclose'?"

"I have a vocabulary that isn't entirely made up of obscene words and flamboyant sayings," she slipped her arm through the other strap of her backpack, punching Michael's arm in the process. "And after Friday's...incident, I'd prefer to give Clarke more than enough privacy."

"You're just jealous you're not a glam bitch like me," he flipped non-existent hair over his shoulder. "And how'd that talk go?"

"Fine. We both laid out all our cards, and then I teased her about it - all in lighthearted fun," she smirked.

"Is that the only teasing you do?" A smirk stretched Michael's lips as well.

"Thus far, yes," Lexa rolled her eyes. "Do you ever think of anything other than Clarke and me having sex?"

"I'm just being considerate of your well-being Lex, you really need to get laid sooner or later." The students loitering in the parking lot perked up.

"Christ," she breathed out, nettled. She dropped her volume. "I know what I want in that regard, I don't know about Clarke."

"I can ask her, if you want," he shrugged. "I know you're too much of a 'fraidy cat to do it yourself."

Lexa grunted. "Am not."

"Then prove it!"

"Lower your voice," Lexa hushed. "I don't need the whole school knowing my personal business."

"Yeah, the only one getting in your personal business is Clarke." Michael wiggled his brows at Lexa as they entered the main building. He turned forward and spotted Clarke at her locker. "Speak of the devil."

Lexa stopped at her locker several rows up from Clarke's. The blonde slammed hers shut and caught sight of the two friends. 

"Hey guys!" Clarke shifted her calculus book to one arm and approached them. "How's your morning so far?"

"Peachy!" Michael beamed. "Lexa here was just telling me what she wants out of life."

"Enough," Lexa warned, never turning her head from the contents of her locker. She pulled one arm out of a backpack strap, lifted a knee against the locker below hers, and balanced her backpack on it to fill it with items from her locker. Perhaps she was still groggy from being up early, or maybe she'd grown comfortable with Clarke's presence. Either way, she failed to remember to cover up the photo of Carrie Fisher taped up on the locker's inside opposite Clarke. It was a 4 by 6 inch limited edition picture of Princess Leia in a metal bikini.

"Wow."

Lexa turned her head to see Clarke with a wide open-mouthed smile, eyes fixed on something in the locker. She traced her gaze to... "Oh no!" Lexa slammed the door shut. 

"Is that what you were talking about during truth or dare?" Clarke eyed Michael and laughed when he nodded smugly.

Lexa turned her back to her friends and slammed her forehead up against the cool metal, holding herself against it. 

"I'll leave you two to it," Michael snickered and walked away.

Lexa didn't move.

"It's not that bad," Clarke assured and leaned her back up against the lockers beside the embarrassed girl. "Don't you remember that I agreed she was hot?"

"Yes, but you didn't know I had that, specifically." Lexa groaned and straightened away from the metal to face Clarke. 

"Then I guess we're even."

Apprehensively, Lexa replied, "I guess we are."

Unnamed tension rose between the two as they stood silently, lost in each other's eyes. Neither of them could find a reason to care about the other students who could catch on.

"Sit with us at lunch," Clarke broke the silence. Her eyes conveyed a gentle admiration, with a speck of devilment.

\----

Self-conscious, Clarke examined herself in her locker's mirror. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Her makeup wasn't smudged, there were no stray hairs protruding from her ponytail, no lipstick on her teeth. In fact, she thought she looked marvelous today. Few things gave her more confidence than her leather jacket, made even more fierce when paired with dark Jordache jeans. 

Surely she hadn't imagined all the students staring and whispering during calculus and art. 

She shut the locker door.

No, it couldn't have been her appearance. She spent so much time and effort glamming up for Lexa, saying she looked flawless wouldn't have even been in vanity. 

A tap to her shoulder spun her around, expecting a friend. However, she faced Alton South, whose party she credited with ultimately bringing her and Lexa together. "Hey, what's up?" Although confused, Clarke considered no reason for the most popular guy in school to approach her would be a bad one. 

"Clarke, did you drink at my party?"

"Not much, but yeah, why?" 

"Do you think that was a good idea?"

Clarke thought back to that night and her every action at the party. Nowhere in her memory did she embarrass herself, and due to the limited amount of alcohol she allowed herself, her memory was very much intact. "Uh...I didn't do anything weird, so I wouldn't say it was a bad one."

"Really? I heard you're not supposed to drink when you're, you know, in that condition." Alton glanced up and down, surveying the blonde's body. 

It hit her. What Octavia said, what Niylah said. The basketball team, huddled together, eyes piercing. Calculus, art. "I am not pregnant." She gritted her teeth.

"You sure? You get around enough, I wouldn't doubt-" 

"Fuck off, Alton," she growled, the anger in her voice drawing the attention of a small crowd. "Just because I know what I like doesn't mean I'm a whore. You should know. Or have you forgotten that I rejected you when you asked me to finger your ass?"

The students surrounding them buzzed, Clarke was only able to pick out a girl saying "oh, grody" and a guy yelling "burn." 

Alton's jaw fell open, and before he could begin to form a rebuttal, Clarke pushed through the crowd, bypassing Lexa and Michael a few feet over before breaking free and storming off to her english classroom.

"...shit," Michael breathed, awestruck. "I knew Clarke was a little feisty, but god damn!"

\---

Even Ms. Todd avoided interacting with Clarke. Irritation overflowed from her aura wave by wave, effectively repelling anyone in the same vicinity. By the time she moved on to her econ class and sat down, the air around her settled, though only in the slightest bit. The slow but steady onset of relaxation allowed her to lean back in her seat just as the bell rang to signal the start of that period. The rest of the class shuffled in through the door. 

The light tap of a folded piece of paper landing on her desk nearly startled her. She glanced around to catch the messenger, but everyone was either just sitting down or already unloading their backpack... except Lexa, who had a hand on her stomach and leaned over Mrs. Vincent's desk, speaking too silently for Clarke to hear. 

Clarke unfolded the note slowly, cautious not to draw attention to herself. 

Meet me in 2A in 10 minutes

-L

Her heart thumped erratically. 2A was the main building restroom reserved for the female athletes, and it was the only girls' restroom on campus with a lock on the front door. Does she...want to...? Clarke watched Lexa nod at the teacher, say "thank you," and turn to head out the door. Her eyes followed the brunette the entire time, wishing the girl would give her some sort of nonverbal cue, a confirmation of Clarke's suspicions, but the door opened and closed unceremoniously. 

Immediately, Clarke counted down the minutes, eyes flicking between the clock above the chalkboard and the note. At the eight minute mark, she strategically ripped the note in such a way it would be difficult to piece together, crumpled the shreds in one hand, and raised the other.

"Yes, Ms. Griffin?" Mrs. Vincent narrowed her beady eyes.

"May I go to the restroom?" She rose from her seat. "I can check on Lexa too, she's been gone a while."

The woman's taut expression slackened, and for just a moment she changed into someone who wasn't an uptight bat. "Oh yes, of course, thank you for considering Ms. Woods."

Clarke nodded and forced herself to walk as calmly out the door as humanly possible. However, out in the hallway, she all but sprinted down the corridor to turn right into the next, only to freeze outside 2A. The sweat in her palms moistened the crushed paper. Soothing breathing exercises served no purpose to her constricting lungs. She briefly considered turning around, almost giving in to the anxiety. That only propelled her forward to open the door. 

Focusing on the task of dropping the paper into the trash can and locking the door eased the nervousness, and gave her an excuse to avoid eye contact. "Are you okay?" she rasped, voice unsteady.

"I could ask you the same," Lexa hopped down from the sink and approached Clarke. "I saw that whole thing with Alton, I didn't want to wait until lunch to see you."

Clarke huffed a sigh of relief. That's why we're here. "It's fine, I'm fine. I should've known I wouldn't escape high school unscathed," Clarke chuckled, relief heavy in her voice. 

Lexa smiled, thankful that Clarke seemed to be taking the situation in stride after winding down from the confrontation. 

"So, you know this is where people come to hook up, right?" 

Mortified, Lexa shifted her sight to the ceiling and backed up to lean against the wall. She floundered for the right thing to say. "I didn't mean to make it seem that way, I just wanted to see if you were okay."

How was this girl so charming in her discomposure? Clarke stepped forward, right in front of Lexa, and clasped her hands behind the base of Lexa's neck. "I wouldn't mind blowing off some steam while we're here."

Lexa gulped. "I wouldn't mind either." She gingerly placed her hands on Clarke's waist.

"Well, since we're in agreement..." Clarke pressed their lips together, gently at first, working their way up to a rhythm just short of frenzied.

Lexa forgot how to breathe. Somehow, every kiss with Clarke felt like the first time. This time, Clarke's lips tasted like the Appleheads she'd eaten in third period in an attempt to soothe the ire streaming through her body. 

Clarke channeled whatever frustration she had left into the kiss and pushed herself up against Lexa in the process. She was rewarded with Lexa's arms wrapping around her.

Clarke's voice echoed in Lexa's head, still fresh from the night of the party. Don't be afraid.  
All too eagerly, she slid her hands down Clarke's back to her butt. Any trace of apprehension fell flat when Clarke smiled against Lexa's mouth and hummed in appreciation. 

What Lexa didn't expect was the leg Clarke slotted between her own. Without thinking, she dug her fingers into Clarke's behind and tugged her closer to subtly grind on her leg. School, basketball, and Clarke occupied the majority of her time, since school started she had no time to wind down and feel the effects of her evident sexual frustration... until now.

"Getting a little brave, are we?" Clarke chuckled hoarsely.

Lexa couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed. Sports alone weren't enough to keep her hormones in check, and Raven's interruption of their makeout session the night of the party dug her a deeper grave. Despite her doubt of Clarke's desires during her conversation with Michael that morning, the gravel of Clarke's voice now convinced her the feelings were mutual. 

Forgoing a verbal answer, Lexa leaned forward to recapture Clarke's lips. 

A nip to her lower lip encouraged Clarke to push her thigh up against Lexa even more firmly, and she reveled in the shift of Lexa's breathing pattern and the more insistent grinding on her leg.

Clarke redirected her mouth to Lexa's neck. 

Though she fought to contain every erotic noise threatening to slip out, Lexa had absolutely no control over her ragged breathing. Granted, Clarke didn't either, except her puffs of breath gusted from her nose as her teeth grazed Lexa's jugular. 

"Jesus, Clarke," Lexa finally moaned and quickened her hips' movements, now gyrating. The alternating pressure against her crotch through her gray sweatpants provided just enough relief to reassure that she could, in fact, make it home to take care of herself after practice before taking Clarke right here and now. 

But suddenly that wasn't an option anyway. Several solid knocks on the locked door and an "everything okay in there?" froze them in place, both heads turned to the source of the disruption.

"Shit!" Lexa whispered vehemently. 

As both a future doctor and an artist, Clarke's ability to think on her feet served her well, but not as well as it did in narrow escapes like this one. "Yeah, Lexa was just a little sick, we should be out soon!"

"Cool, Mrs. Vincent said she could send the nurse over here?"

"Not necessary, but thank you!" Clarke called, slumping in relief when footsteps pattered down the hallway in the opposite direction. She turned her head back to Lexa, but didn't remove her body from its initial position. "Good call on the locking door. We just can't seem to catch a break though." Clarke smiled, pecked Lexa on the lips, and backed away a couple steps to allow the brunette to regain her composure.

Lexa's legs jittered and the racy thoughts running through her head disregarded the abrupt interruption. Imaginary images of Clarke, naked, underneath her, swirled in her brain. If not for Clarke standing right in front of her, she may have even spent the rest of the period in this bathroom with a hand down her pants.

"Lexa?" Clarke stepped forward and reached out to brush her hand against Lexa's arm.

"Sorry, I'm just...I'm just all hot and bothered now," she rubbed her hands over her face and laughed tenuously. "I don't know how I'm going to get through school and practice today without wanting to explode."

"You're not alone there," Clarke snickered and turned on the faucet to splash cold water on her face. "But for now, you should look like you were just dying. Come here," she motioned Lexa over with her chin and stuck her hands back into the stream of water. Lexa turned and leaned her hips against the sink, torso craned over it. Clarke's dripping hands patted over Lexa's hairline, gathered more water, and rubbed across the back of her neck to dampen the hair there as well. "There."

The frigid water along Lexa's forehead and neck mollified her raging hormones for now, and gave her enough mental clarity to ensure nobody suspected what they were doing. "Maybe we should grab my stuff, you can walk me to the nurse and tell Mrs. Vincent I just need to rest for a while."

\---

Lexa's plan worked flawlessly. She convinced the nurse she ate something bad and just needed a quick nap. Her temperature was a smidge high at 99.1 degrees Fahrenheit, which she attributed to her little rendezvous with Clarke. Of course, the nurse didn't know that, so Lexa spent another minute assuring the woman that she felt much better now and just wanted to lie down for safe measure. 

Back in the classroom, Mrs. Vincent thanked Clarke and made a note to add 5 extra credit points to her next assignment. 

Clarke didn't realize how long she'd been with Lexa. It felt like she had only just sat down when the bell rang and the hallway outside her classroom door filled with students.  
Michael, Raven, and Octavia waited for Clarke outside.

"Hey Griff," Raven greeted with a nod, and craned her neck to look back into the room. "I thought you had this class with Lexa?"

"I do, she had to rest in the nurse's office for most of the period."

Shockingly, out of the three of them, none of Clarke's friends had a snarky remark. They all believed her. Even Raven, whose ability to pick out a lie from a mile away had burned Clarke in the past, bought it. 

"Is she okay?" Michael asked.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I guess something she ate just didn't agree with her." Clarke thought for sure that Raven would catch her this time, but she slipped under the radar once again. 

They went to the cafeteria, gathered their food, and sat at their usual table in the middle of the room lunchroom. Lexa must have been on their tail the whole time, she arrived only moments after they settled into their seats. 

"Hey stranger, feeling any better?" Octavia smiled at the girl lowering herself onto the bench to sit beside Clarke.

"Much better." The brunette rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. "Clarke came to my rescue."

"Oh really?" Michael beamed. "Looks like the tables have turned."

"Ha ha," Clarke sneered. "I'm just glad she didn't get what I had."

The flicker of Raven's eyes between them made Clarke uneasy. 

Unknowingly, Octavia bailed them out. "So my mom found her old Betty Crocker book and I'm praying to God she doesn't actually make anything from it." She faked a gag, finger halfway in her open mouth. "Gelatin should not touch meat or vegetables. Ever."

"My mom still makes tuna casserole and ham-wrapped bananas," Raven shook her head disdainfully. "And cheese ball."

"But I love your mom's cheese ball," Clarke frowned playfully. 

"Gag me with a spoon," Raven groaned. 

Michael glared daggers at Alton South as he passed behind Clarke, and waited until he found his own table before speaking. "You guys missed it, Clarke roasted Alton in the hallway earlier."

"I will never forgive myself for missing that," Octavia laughed. "What happened?"

They turned to Clarke. 

"He was just asking if I was actually pregnant and talking shit, so I used one of his closet skeletons. You know, the butt thing."

Raven guffawed. "I totally forgot about that! What did he say?"

Clarke shrugged. "I don't know. I just walked away, if this is anything like the time everyone thought Laura Gardner took steroids, it'll blow over in a couple weeks."

\---

To review chapter one, Mr. Jimenez handed out two sheets of paper per student. Both sheets displayed a short story and blank spaces beside key words and phrases for the students to translate. He encouraged seat partners to talk it out. 

Naturally, Clarke and Octavia took full advantage of the opportunity. Octavia babbled on about Lincoln and how he'd smiled at her in the hall last week, and how she missed her brother, Bellamy, who'd shipped off to boot camp recently. 

"But I've been talking this whole time, I'm sorry," Octavia smiled sheepishly at her friend. "So is Lexa going to be hanging out with us more often?"

"I think so," Clarke crossed out her answer and rewrote it. "She's really nice, didn't you guys ever have a class together? You've both lived here forever."

"Yeah..." Octavia fidgeted with her pencil. "I was kind of a jerk to her for a while in middle school."

"When she was with Costia?" 

"You know about that?" Octavia stared over at Clarke. 

"She told me everything," Clarke sighed, leaning her head against her hand, elbow on the table. "Why didn't I hear about that until she told me?"

"Nobody really talked about it after everything was all said and done," Octavia watched her own fingers as they twisted her eraser. "After everyone expressed their condolences and said their "I'm sorrys," all the bullying just turned into silence. I feel bad about it, but there's nothing I can do about it now, you know? I apologized to her after it happened and she was angry - I don't blame her."

"But she seems okay with you now?" Clarke's brows crinkled together in confusion.

"When she started hanging out with Michael more, I ran into them the summer before sophomore year. I apologized again, but that time I did it genuinely, not because everyone else was. She said she forgave me, we hugged, and that was it." Octavia shrugged. "We never hung out, but we can chat a bit when we do end up in the same group."

Clarke nodded solemnly.

"I'm really glad you two are friends now. You're a great person Clarke, and she deserves another great friend in addition to Michael after all she's been through."

Clarke smiled. "Thanks, O."

"You're welcome," Octavia nudged Clarke with her shoulder. "I have a question, I promise I won't narc you out so tell me the truth. Are you guys, like...a thing?"

"Octavia-"

"The only reason I ask is because Raven said she could 'cut the tension with a butter knife'," she crooked her fingers in air quotes. Blue eyes burned into her soul. "Okay, that's not the only reason."

"It's nothing..." Clarke glanced down at her paper, her lack of eye contact betraying her.

"Oh, I'm so sure!" Octavia said sarcastically. "She helped you when you were sick, you helped her when she was sick, you stayed behind with her after the party, you invited her to sit with us..." she trailed off.

"That's just what good friends do," Clarke tapped her hands against her thighs. 

"Clarke."

"Okay, yes, kind of," Clarke groaned. "Is that wrong?"

"Four or so years ago, I would've said yes. But I've learned that love is love, and that just because I don't understand it, that doesn't mean it's bad or fake."

"If only everyone was that mature." Clarke doodled 3D shapes along the margins of her paper.

"Just wait 'til college," Octavia snickered. 

Clarke filled in a few more answers. "You still promise not to be a narc?"

"Yeah, what's up?" Octavia turned to Clarke again.

The blonde swiveled her head around, making sure nobody was listening in. All clear. "Lexa wasn't actually sick today."

"Uh, doy. Did you see all the food she ate at lunch? No way she would've wolfed it down like that if she was puking an hour before."

Clarke's eyes popped open. 

"I thought she was just trying to fuel up for practice later, but then Raven used her weird non-psychic but psychic abilities," Octavia smirked. "You went to 2A, didn't you?"

Clarke blushed and tapped her foot against one of her chair's metal legs. "Yes, but we didn't, like... do it."

Octavia squealed, earning a few short odd looks from nearby students. She mouthed "sorry" and waited for the last of them to go back to their own conversations before she continued. "Whatever you did, how was it?"

"It was great," Clarke smiled mischievously. "I almost couldn't stop myself."

Octavia giggled. "Clarke!"

She shushed her friend, both still tittering. Clarke lowered her voice, just in case Octavia's little outburst drew anyone's attention. "I'm going to her practice after this, do you know what time it starts?"

The bell rang.

"I think 2:20. It says for sure on the bulletin boards." Octavia shoved her book and binder into her backpack. "Can I go with you? Raven's going straight home to do homework."

"Sure."

"I promise I'll be out of there as soon as it ends, so you two can do whatever you do," Octavia winked.

Clarke smiled and shook her head as they both exited the room. They went to their lockers to put in and take out books as necessary, then arrived at the gym ten minutes early. Clarke recognized most of the people from last time, and led Octavia up to her spot towards the top of the bleachers.

The players strolled out from the locker room and began their stretches.

"Shit, Raven's right, you are sprung."

Until Octavia spoke up, Clarke never registered that she'd been staring at Lexa since she stepped foot on the court. It wasn't her fault Lexa's shorts accentuated her butt. Clarke was so enthralled with Lexa's toned arms holding her up during a plank that the only response she could conjure was "shh."

Octavia turned her attention to Lexa as well. "Actually, I can see why. She's got a bodacious bod."

Clarke chuckled. Each player grabbed two balls from a huge wire basket, and proceeded to dribble both in different, rhythmic patterns and directions as quickly and precisely as possible. The coach walked among the players, stopping every now and then to critique form. He stopped at Niylah, and Clarke recalled her conversation with Octavia in spanish class. "What's Niylah's deal? I'll be shocked if she didn't also pick on Lexa in middle school."

"They were actually pretty good friends," Octavia raised her eyebrows as if she couldn't believe it herself. 

"You're lying."

"I kid you not." Octavia whipped out a nail filer from her backpack and scraped it against her nails. "I mean, they weren't after she outed Lexa, but before that they were inseparable."

"She outed Lexa?"

Octavia nodded. "Yep, and she didn't take it well when Lexa called her out on it. So she totally turned on Lexa. Like, talk about harsh - she yelled 'dyke' and 'queer' in the hallway so often that everyone else started doing it."

Clarke pursed her lips. She mentally applauded Lexa for her level-headed demeanor overall, even more so in Niylah's presence. Such malicious behavior was unheard of in her old neighborhood, regardless of the occasional slur thrown into casual conversation. Here, it appeared the only way to abate the brutal harassment was to explain how wrong the behavior was shortly after the cold-blooded murder of a young gay girl, and even then it was iffy. 

Octavia broke through Clarke's silence. "I have to hand it to her, there's no way you can tell now that anything happened. She's so calm and collected."

Clarke nodded. She was speechless. When Lexa opened up about her experience in the wee hours of the morning, Clarke thought for sure it couldn't get any worse than what she heard.

\---

"Good practice, ladies. Don't forget, no practice tomorrow or Thursday, we'll double-time on Friday," the coach's voice echoed.

"That is my cue to jet," Octavia winked at her friend, stood, and stretched. "Call me if anything crazy happens. Later days and better lays."

"Bye, O." Clarke trailed behind her friend down the steps and parted ways when they reached the glossy wooden floor. 

Lexa emerged from the locker room mere moments after going in, hauling her backpack and gym bag on either shoulder as she approached Clarke. "You're here!"

"I am," Clarke smiled and embraced Lexa.

"I don't know why you want to hug me, I'm all sweaty," Lexa said as she returned the hug, maneuvering just so to keep her baggage from falling. 

"I always want to hug you," Clarke beamed and planted a sneaky kiss on Lexa's cheek before pulling away. 

Lexa perused the crowd of people around them, sighing in relief when she found nobody watching them. "You don't care about being seen?"

"It's not like we're making out, friends kiss each other's cheeks all the time," Clarke leaned forward and kissed Lexa's other cheek, then pointed out with an open-handed gesture that the parents and siblings witnessed it, completely unfazed. "See?"

"Okay..." Lexa accepted hesitantly. "Forgive me if I'm not up to date on friendly gestures, it's been a while since I've had any female friends." They started on their walk home.

"Like Niylah?"

Lexa's stoic countenance faltered fleetingly. She'd expected Clarke to find out about her and Niylah's friendship at some point, most likely from Michael, but for her to know so soon was unexpected. "Yes, like Niylah."

"I'm sorry." Clarke fiddled with the straps hanging down from her backpack. 

"What for?" Curious, Lexa turned her torso, leaving her walking pattern undisturbed.

"For all the bullshit you've been through because of her. It's really not fair."

Lexa shrugged, turning forward again. "Shit happens."

"How do you handle it so well? You're so nice to everyone and they don't deserve it, they were shitty to both you and Costia." Clarke watched the brunette for any sign of timidity, but Lexa's courage radiated throughout her entire being.

"Not everyone. Not you." Lexa steadied herself with a breath. "The dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry."

The statement struck a chord with Clarke. Every day, she noticed more and more that Lexa seemed to have at least a hundred years' worth of wisdom, all wrapped up in a 17 year old body. 

They arrived at Clarke's doorstep this time around, and Lexa dropped her bags to hug the blonde. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around the slim girl and nuzzled into her neck. 

"Is this going to become a daily thing?" Lexa smiled against Clarke's temple. 

"Only if you let me carry one of your bags from now on," Clarke pulled back just enough to quirk an eyebrow at Lexa.

"Deal." Lexa grinned. She brought a hand up to Clarke's cheek, and delicately pressed her lips against the blonde's. The cadence and urgency (or lack thereof) of this kiss sat on the opposite side of the spectrum compared to their tryst earlier in the day. The tempo remained slow but rapt, and Clarke absentmindedly traced small circles with her middle finger on Lexa's lower back. When they pulled apart, the air about them wasn't charged as it was earlier, and their breathing held steady. "I'll see you tomorrow," Lexa murmured, kissed Clarke one more time, picked up her bags, and cut across the lawn en route to her house.

Clarke opened the door and nearly jumped at the sight of her mother, standing with her arms crossed, a smirk angling one corner of her lips higher than the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narc = a name for a narcotics officer. used casually to mean someone who rats you out; a snitch  
> Doy = duh  
> Bodacious = hot, nice (in reference to a person's body)  
> Jet = go, leave  
> Later days and better lays = goodbye; see you later, essentially


	8. September 1, 1988

It had been 44 hours since Abby knew.

Now Thursday, Clarke sat with Lexa at lunch, recounting her mother's reaction to their kiss on Tuesday, while Michael, Octavia, and Raven waited impatiently in the cafeteria line. 

"She was just standing there, smiling at me." Clarke prodded at the salad on her tray with a plastic spork. "I didn't know what to do, I froze. But then she hugged me and said she'll always love me no matter what. She told me to be careful, though."

"Yeah, well..." Lexa raised her brows and watched Clarke flip the same pieces of lettuce over each other. 

"Right..." Clarke remembered. The last openly gay relationship to grace Trigeda... did not end well. "Do you think it's gotten a little better since then? Or...?"

"I think it has." Lexa folded her arms on the table and leaned slightly forward. "I haven't worried about my safety since the end of freshman year." She paused. "But if we decide to go public, I am going to worry about you."

"That makes sense," Clarke nodded, "and despite the fact that you're a badass, I'm going to worry about you."

"Am I badass enough to take care of you?" Lexa grinned.

"Hmm..." Clarke tapped the spork against the tray, pretending to ponder. "Maybe, but it's okay if you aren't, I can be scrappy."

"Yeah?" Lexa chuckled. 

"Damn skippy. I can be pretty frightening." Clarke nodded pridefully.

"Oh for sure, I haven't been this spooked since Stripe went full gremlin," Lexa sarcastically encouraged the blonde.

Clarke stuck out her tongue just as the rest of the group reached the table.

"Okay, what's the lesbian equivalent of 'keep it in your pants'?" Michael blurted.

Raven stared at him, then turned to Clarke and Lexa, eyes bouncing between them.

"Oh crap, did I let the cat out of the bag?" Michael covered his mouth with one hand. He glanced over at Clarke. "I am so sorry. O knew, I thought Ray did too."

Raven shook her head in mock disdain. "Damn, Griff, that's cold." Clarke began to panic, she couldn't read her friend's response. Raven decided to spare her. "Who do you think told O her suspicions were right?"

For a moment, Clarke sat, stupefied. That is, until she remembered her conversation with Octavia in spanish class a couple days prior. Her sigh of relief evolved into a groan halfway through. 

"Drunk me had the first epiphany, you were screwed from the get-go," Raven pointed at Clarke. "And you," she pointed to Lexa, "you aren't so sly, either. Every time you're around Clarke, your eyes turn into giant hearts, like a damn Looney Tune."

Lexa gulped, then shrugged. "Can't help it, Clarke's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," she smiled at the blonde.

Clarke blushed, Octavia and Michael "aww"'d, and Raven rolled her eyes with a "gag me out the door."

\---

Due to their proximity, Clarke and Octavia spent the majority of Spanish passing notes without being caught. The lecture crawled so tediously to the point where Octavia folded the paper in every style she knew between passes to bide her time, then Clarke doodled a deer or other forest creature in the margin.

At long last, the final bell rung.

"Are you going to Lexa's practice again?" Octavia asked as she packed her bag. 

"Yeah, you and Raven want to come?"

"Oh my god yes, Raven has to see firsthand the way you slobber over Lexa."

"I do not slobber." Clarke rolled her eyes and followed Octavia out of the room and toward Raven's last class. 

Clarke spotted Niylah walking their direction. Nothing unusual, they crossed paths frequently in the small school.

But Niylah appeared intent on starting a conversation. Her eyes locked onto Clarke's. Octavia whispered, "I think Niylah has something to say to us."

"Fuckin' A." Clarke muttered to herself.

"Griffin." Niylah greeted them with a cold nod.

"Yes?" Clarke fought the urge to sass the girl to no end.

"I don't know what's going on between you and that freak, but I'd stay away from her if I were you," Niylah spat. 

Clarke wasn't sure which shocked her more: the fact that Niylah referred to Lexa as a freak, or the insinuation of...she didn't know what.

"Is that a threat?" Octavia stepped into the taller girl's space.

Niylah narrowed her eyes before pushing past the girls on her way to the gym. 

"What the fuck's her damage?" Clarke straightened out her Prince shirt and looked at her friend. 

"Fuck if I know," Octavia shook her shoulders to release the tension. "Let's just find Raven and go to your house, I don't think going to the gym is a good idea right now."

Clarke sighed, but nodded. 

The girls found Raven at her locker, explained what happened, and smack-talked on the whole ride in Octavia's car to Clarke's house.

"Oh thank god, mom's not home," Clarke exhaled as they parked the car in the driveway.

"Aww, I haven't seen her in so long," Raven frowned, "I should invite her over for dinner sometime. Just her, not you." She chuckled and elbowed Clarke as they approached the front door. 

Raven went straight to the kitchen while Octavia and Clarke turned on the TV and sat down on the couch. 

"Ew, As the World Turns," Octavia scrunched her nose and crawled across the floor to change the channel. "Do you get MTV?"

"Channel 10." Clarke scooted toward the end of the couch to make room for Raven.

The screen flipped from the soap opera to the middle of the music video for George Michael's "One More Try."

"I'd totally have a thing for him if he wasn't gay." Octavia sighed and returned to the couch.

"What? He's not gay," Raven babbled through a mouthful of Ruffles. "His earring's on the left."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Clarke glanced over at Raven, puzzled.

"That's the straight ear. How do I know more about this than you do?" Raven laughed.

INXS's "Need You Tonight" resonated from the TV's single speaker.

"They better play this at prom," Octavia ordered. "I don't think it's dirty enough to be banned, is it?"

Raven gestured with her chin at Clarke's shirt. "It has nothing on Prince, that's for sure."

Octavia tilted her head. "I thought his songs weren't that dirty? Everybody keeps telling me Raspberry Beret is sexual, but I just don't hear it."

"Have you heard the B-side of Let's Go Crazy?" Clarke lifted a brow incredulously.

"No..." Octavia shrunk down, guilty. "What is it?"

"Hold on." Clarke jumped up from the couch, ran to the small table beside the kitchen entryway, and flipped through the phonebook beside the phone. "Cover her ears," she pointed to Raven, then Octavia. Raven shielded the brunette's ears with her hands, and chuckled as Clarke called a radio station and requested the song. Raven uncovered Octavia's ears as Clarke thanked the DJ. 

"He said he'll put it on right after this song," Clarke turned down the volume on the TV and turned on the radio sitting beside the TV. She tuned it to the correct station, and ran over to the couch to wait for the current song to end.

"Thanks for listening to Grounder Radio, that was Cheap Trick, and now we have a request from Clarke in Trigeda for Erotic City," the DJ announced.

Raven squealed and Clarke laughed as she shushed her. 

All of my purple life,  
I've been looking for a dame  
That would wanna be my wife,  
That was my intention, babe.

If we cannot make babies, maybe we can make some time...

"Okay, but that's not too-" Octavia started, but immediately shut up when Raven and Clarke shushed her and pointed at the radio. The chorus continued, and Octavia's jaw dropped. "What! What!"

Raven and Clarke cracked up, both clutching at their stomachs as if it would ease the pain from exhausting the muscles.

"You can't say that on the radio!" Octavia's mouth still hung open, further fueling her friends' laughter.

"Nobody knows if it's 'fuck' or 'funk,' so technically the stations can't get in trouble for it." Raven wiped tears from her cheeks as she explained. "Shit, good call, Clarke." She high-fived the blonde.

Once the song ended, Raven turned off the radio and raised the TV's volume. They watched several music videos by the time Clarke looked up at the clock on the wall. 4:06. "Lexa will be home soon. I should tell her what happened."

"Want us there?" Octavia asked as she snatched another handful of Ruffles from the bag Raven almost devoured.

"Nah, it's fine," Clarke stood when Raven and Octavia did.

"We'll head over to my house then, you probably want some alone time with your gal pal," Octavia winked. 

"Just get out," Clarke chuckled and walked them out to the car. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." She waved at them as they drove down the street. In the opposite direction a few houses down, Lexa trekked across the sidewalk, one bag on each shoulder as usual. Clarke restrained herself from running as she walked over, only noticing the bag of ice strapped to Lexa's left hip when she hugged the brunette. "What happened?"

"Niylah," Lexa shrugged, her expression conveying 'what can you do.'

They strolled to Clarke's house. "She came up to me today."

"What did she do?" Lexa's full attention snapped to Clarke, and she picked up the pace to get them home sooner. 

"She called you a freak and said I should stay away from you," she opened the door for Lexa, closed it behind them, and helped Lexa set down her bags by the door. 

Lexa sighed, but said nothing. She stared at the blank TV screen. 

"I'm not listening to her," Clarke reassured. "I just thought you should know, be in the loop." She hugged Lexa again and left a chaste kiss on her vaguely sticky neck.

Lexa smiled faintly. She squeezed Clarke once and picked up her bags. "Let's go to my house, I have Beetlejuice on VHS."

Clarke scoffed playfully, but opened the door and locked it behind them anyway. "No you don't, that movie just came out this year."

"My friend Lincoln...knows a guy." From the corner of her eye, she saw Clarke staring questioningly. "That's all I can say."

"Well...bitchin'." Clarke smiled and followed Lexa into the house and up the stairs. She sat on Lexa's bed as the brunette emptied her bags as needed. The realization that nobody greeted them and that there wasn't even a car in the driveway struck Clarke, and she recalled the absence of Lexa's mother at her previous practices. "What does your mom do? I've never seen her."

Lexa paused momentarily, then continued her task. "Indra's a police captain in the next town over, she works overtime a lot." Though her back faced Clarke, she could feel the blue eyes drilling into the back of her head. "Indra's not my mom." She placed her books on a desk and when she turned around, Clarke still stared. "My parents disowned me when I told them I'm gay, the day Niylah outed me."

"That's awful," Clarke shook her head. "How do you know...Indra?" 

"Yes, Indra. She's a family friend. Or was, I should say." Lexa turned on the TV across from the end of her bed and inserted the VHS sitting beside it into the VCR. Once the intro materialized, she crawled onto the bed to lie on her stomach beside Clarke, facing the TV. "She stopped talking to my parents after they signed all the custody transference papers."

"This is a dumb question, but do you miss them?" Clarke stretched out, now positioned like Lexa.

"Kind of. I don't miss all the judgment, I just miss them the same way any abandoned child would." Lexa shrugged. "Indra's my family now."

Clarke nodded and fixed her gaze on the screen. They watched in silence as a man picked up a spider, observed it, then tossed it out a window. It wasn't long before Clarke's curiosity got the better of her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"I guess I can count Lincoln as a sibling. He lived here for a little while before moving in with a friend, Indra took him in after both of his parents were imprisoned for drug trafficking."

"Octavia thinks he's hella cute, you know," Clarke chuckled. 

"Let's set them up." Lexa turned her head to Clarke, eyes wide and mouth grinning. "She's totally his type."

"We have to get Raven and Michael in on it if we do."

"Oh yeah, of course, that would be too much work for just the two of us. He's kind of shy."

Clarke stuck her hand towards Lexa for a handshake. "Let's do it."

Lexa took her hand and shook once, firmly. "I'll call Michael after practice tomorrow, you call Raven."

"Oh that's right, your practice tomorrow will be a dick year."

"It's only three and a half hours, Clarke." Lexa chuckled. "Longest I've gone was five hours."

"I'd better bring snacks, then."

"You're still coming? You won't be able to feel your butt by the end of it." 

"Maybe I won't, but you can," Clarke smirked, eyes back on the screen.

Though the blonde couldn't see her, Lexa still quirked a brow. "Is that a promise?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gag me out the door = it's so gross you have to leave, go 'out the door'  
> Fuckin' A = can mean displeasure with something or approving/liking something, depending on the context  
> Dick year = a long time (did I already do this one? I know it's been mentioned lmao whatever) 
> 
> Please for the love of god listen to Erotic City if you haven't already.
> 
> Also, believe it or not, there are a lot of '80s words/phrases in this fic that I don't define at the end because they're still used today!


	9. September 2, 1988

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter, sorry! I needed something to fill in the gaps for the next chapter and keep this updated in reasonable time!

For the first time in years, Lexa felt as if the school day could not go any slower. That is, until she reached fourth period Econ with Clarke - THEN it whirled forward too quickly. The moments she spent with Clarke were too short, but it dawned on her that after practice, she had the whole weekend to hang out with her favorite blonde. And that's what pulled her through Mr. Hensley's computer class. He claimed to have an urgent errand to run, and so, five minutes early, instructed his students to shut down their computers and dismiss themselves once the systems were off.

Once her computer stopped its beeping and whirring, Lexa slung her backpack over her shoulder and followed the other students out the door. Aside from her class, the hallways sat vacant and quiet. A clock on the wall read 2:01, and she walked giddily down the hall to Mr. Jimenez's room to greet Clarke when the bell rang.

Clarke's run-in with Niylah happened barely 24 hours ago, and Lexa didn't think she could stomach the thought of it happening again. Escorting Clarke to her practices probably added fuel to Niylah's fire, but Lexa figured a little rumor about them would be significantly easier to deal with than throwing punches at her teammate.

Though that possible 'little rumor' would have been true, neither she nor Clarke were required to admit that to the school.

The shrill ringing of the bell brought nothing but excitement to the eager brunette, and she exercised whatever self-control she had left to appear calm and collected to the students flooding out from the classroom.

Finally, behind the rest of the pack, Octavia and Clarke emerged and greeted Lexa.

"I thought you'd already be on your way to the gym," Clarke adjusted the backpack on her shoulder. She couldn't hide her happiness with such a broad grin on her face, but Lexa's expression mirrored hers almost exactly.

"I wanted the honor of escorting you there." Lexa lifted her chin royally.

"The honor's all mine," Clarke giggled.

"Oh gag me." Octavia rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling. "I'll see you guys next week." She walked toward the front of the school, waving goodbye to her friends on her way.

Neither Clarke nor Lexa recognized the man holding a clipboard when they entered the gym. His deep-set eyes must have immediately recognized their confusion, because within seconds, he strolled over and stuck out his right hand. "You must be Lexa. I'm your new coach, Titus."

"Nice to meet you," Lexa shook his hand, still bewildered. "What happened to Coach Dante?"

"He...got into some trouble," Titus scribbled something onto his clipboard. "He won't be coming back."

Surely it must have been something unpleasant, at the very least. Gossip and Trigeda High School mixed better than pancakes and syrup, having no information on something surrounding the staff meant a possible legal situation. However, Lexa simply shrugged and headed toward the locker room while Clarke climbed up the bleachers.

\----

To Clarke's surprise, the new coach did not tolerate any of Niylah's antics. Her usual punishment of running suicides quickly escalated to loss of game time, and Lexa later left the locker room without a bag of ice.

Better yet, Lexa's mood seemed lighter on their walk home. She chatted more animatedly about her day, and Clarke couldn't help but laugh along and admire the way the brunette raised her eyebrows when she found something particularly funny.

They stopped at Clarke's front door, their daily routine.

"So I know it's kind of last minute, but my birthday's tomorrow and Indra wants to have a little party, I'd love it if you came," Lexa offered, nervously wringing her hands.

"Whoa what! Mine too!" Clarke grinned. "But yes, I would love to go."

"We can celebrate together." Lexa smiled. "Fair warning, I've adopted Indra's tradition of smashing cake in the birthday girl's face."

"Then you'd better watch your back as well, Woods."

Lexa chuckled. "I invited Michael and Lincoln, can you invite Raven and Octavia? And your mom, if she wants to come."

"My mom will be working," Clarke sighed, "but yeah I'll call them tonight."

Lexa smirked. "We can finally introduce Lincoln and Octavia."

Clarke beamed. "Let's call them now! Come on!" She opened her door and pulled Lexa inside before she had the chance to wiggle her way out of it.

"My goodness Clarke- oh hello Lexa!" Abby looked up from where she sat on the couch, book in hand.

"Hi mom!" Clarke tugged Lexa to the phone. "Call Lincoln first."

"What's going on?" Abby set down her novel and fixed her attention on the two girls.

"Lexa's having a birthday party tomorrow, and we're trying to set up Octavia with her friend Lincoln."

"Clarke said you'll be working, but if you can make it you're invited," Lexa briefly smiled over her shoulder at Abby before spinning the phone's dial. "We'll be adding Clarke's name to the cake."

"How fun! This is the first year I'll be missing Clarke's birthday." Abby frowned. "I couldn't get out of work though."

"It's okay mom, really," the blonde leaned over the back of the couch to hug her mom. "Besides, would you really want a big group of obnoxious teenagers here for several hours?"

Abby chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way..."

Lexa set the phone down. "He's not answering. But he'll be there tomorrow, we just need to call Raven and Octavia."

"Or..." Clarke picked up the phone and started dialing. "We can call Raven and have her call Octavia so O doesn't hear how excited I am."

"Even better." Lexa placed one of her bags on the floor and pulled the other from Clarke's arm to drop it in the same spot.

Clarke greeted Raven over the phone and began explaining her plan. Lexa settled into the side of the couch opposite Abby.

"I noticed Indra isn't home, would you like to stay for dinner?" Abby grinned reassuringly and stood to head for the kitchen.

"Sure, thank you." Lexa nodded.

 

 

 

 


End file.
